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nerdestiwrites · 1 month

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call to the devil and the devil will come

The rest of the hotel had gone to sleep hours prior, the last to return to their rooms having been Charlie and Vaggie, strictly because Vaggie had practically forced the Princess to bed. Charlie had tried to argue, to say that she wasn’t tired, that she could stay up, that if her father was staying up then so could she. Vaggie had none of it, picking up the blonde and carrying her up to the bed as the exhausted princess half struggled against her girlfriend. All the while Lucifer watched from the bar, shouting a goodnight to his little girl and her girlfriend.

The bartender, Rusk, Busk, Nusk, something of that sort, had gone to bed just twenty minutes earlier after the King had assured the demon that his assistance was no longer needed. The cat seemed hesitant about leaving the bar unattended, about leaving his job when clearly Lucifer had no intentions of going to bed, but didn’t argue much past a few grunts and small mutters about how it wasn’t his problem now he was off the clock.

He sat at the bar, two fingers holding onto a thin straw as they stirred around the contents of the nearly empty drink. He hadn’t meant to drink, he was a sloppy drunk and knew that much, but Charlie wanted to celebrate now that the hotel had been rebuilt. She wanted everyone to celebrate, and so he agreed because now that he was back with his daughter, he wouldn’t do anything to disappoint her again. He couldn’t let himself drift back into the haze of never knowing what day it was, letting information just pass by him rather than taking it in and understanding it, of letting himself drift away from her again. He wouldn’t let that happen.

The look on Charlie's face when she realized that Alastor wouldn’t be joining the celebrations, was an excuse, Lucifer knew it was an excuse, about needing to prepare for one of his radio shows, or maybe he had said something about a meeting with someone, or something, it didn’t matter in the end. What had mattered was the disappointment on Charlie's face. Lucifer would absolutely not let that disappointment last on his daughter's face.

So he immediately did what he did best. Distraction. He kicked Husk out from behind the bar, having told him that even the bartender deserved a drink sometimes, and began making everyone a specialized drink. A cotton candy martini for Angel Dust, a muddled blackberry old fashioned for Husk, a cherry flavored Vegas bomb for Cherri, a simple spiked strawberry lemonade for Vaggie, and a rubber duckie-themed drink for Charlie.

A handful of drinks later, and soon Charlie begged for him to drink with them. He tried to argue, even tried to make a mocktail for himself, but that damned cat bartender saw right through it. And so he had a few cocktails as well, and his mixing became less structured, no longer measured, and more of a free pour, which led to way too strong of drinks. The rest was a blurry mess he struggled to keep straight in his head, and now he sat alone, an empty glass with ice melting and a straw stirring it around.

As he stared into the empty glass, the devil let his head rest in his free hand, eyes closing momentarily as he took in a deep breath. Sleep wasn’t something that found him often, and he’d rather do anything besides lay in bed and stare at the wall or ceiling while his mind spun in the fuzzy state it was in currently. That would definitely be a one-way street to spiraling and he had been doing so well at staying focused and keeping his head on straight. If he spiraled now he might leave the hotel, and if he left, he knew he wouldn’t have the energy to return again.

So Lucifer stood, stumbled, grabbed onto the edge of the bar, and groaned for a moment as the room spun around him. Sitting on the floor sounded like a good idea but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get up and what a state to find the King of Hell. No, he couldn’t do that either. It would be at least somewhat respectable if he passed out on the couch inside the parlor of the hotel rather than the floor.

He forced himself to stand straight, focused his eyes on the couch in the near distance, and moved his legs. He kicked his apple cane, sending it to the floor and rolling away but he couldn’t have cared less about the item. No, he had a goal in mind. Couch. Make it to the couch. His hand moved, his angelic power working without his mind helping, and a small plain rubber duck appeared clutched in his hand.

He squeaked the duck once, then twice, focus. It helped him focus as much as he hated to admit it, even in the drunken state, and he made it to the couch. Lucifer allowed himself to practically fall face-first into the couch, his entire body fitting along the length of it and he groaned. Perhaps he should’ve eaten before drinking so much, perhaps he should’ve been a bit more firm in his no.

The king really should’ve been better. Better than this, better for his daughter. He shouldn’t have just locked himself away, isolating himself from everyone. That did nothing but hurt Charlie, even if he had thought it was the best thing to do. Now there was a strain between him and her and he wasn’t sure he could ever fix it. He needed to fix it. He needed to. Needed to.

He needed to have something in the background. Music, a show, a podcast, something to keep his mind focused and not spiraling. A squeak of his duck and he sat up on the couch, eyes searching for a remote or a TV or something. Instead, they found an old radio, one of Alastors radios, and a low grumble escaped his lips. Spiraling might be better than using that demon's radio for anything.

A squeak of his duck told him otherwise and he sighed. Damn, his mind. Damnit it.

A wave of his hand and the radio turned on. Static filled the room and Lucifer the empty hand over his face before reaching over to fiddle with the knobs on the damned ancient relic, not like he had a lot of room to actually say those words out loud. He wasn’t one to usually want to watch TV, it scrambled the brain, and he was much older than the old radio was.

Turning the dial a few times to the left, and then to the right, the devil settled on a frequency that had been playing soft jazz. The music filled the air and he allowed his head to fall back against the couch as he listened, focusing on the different instruments that he could pick out and recognize. Perhaps if he could sit here long enough, he could get past the drunkenness and skip right past the hangover. Wishful thinking, drunk wishful thinking, but still. The king might not have many hopes left, let this be one that he knew was silly.

The radio started to glitch, or rather, it sounded like someone had turned the dial, interrupting the jazz and filling the room with static. An annoyed look crossed Lucifer's face and he looked up at the small radio. The dial was still pointed at the direction he had left it, but the static continued to get louder and more intense. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed, and he reached forward, turned the dial, and nothing. It remained the same. He groaned audibly now and sat up once more, the duck dropping from his hand and rolling underneath the couch. The radio suddenly shut off.

“Hahaha! What a sight to see! Truly!” The voice with the radio filter over it filled the silence and Lucifer's head snapped in its direction.

There stood Alastor, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned forward over the couch, staring down at the King. The fallen angel growled and went to grab onto the demon, however in his drunken state he had been too slow, or perhaps he overestimated how far he needed to grab, or maybe it was a mixture of both, and he ended up tumbling over the back of the couch onto the floor. A laugh track filled the air and Lucifer could feel the anger and embarrassment flowing through him more. The alcohol inside his system fueled his emotions.

“You-” The King started as he pulled himself up off the floor, using the couch for support before whipping to face the demon once more. “You are so fucking lucky that Charlie cares for you. I would-would fuck you so hard.” His words slurred and he stumbled to find the words he wanted to say, and even when he wasn’t drunk he had a difficult time saying what he actually meant.

The Radio demon, who now stood a few feet away from the devil, raised an eyebrow, his smile tightening slightly as his head turned to the side slightly, mockingly. He stood there staring at Lucifer with that stupid face, mocking him. Oh, how he would love to wipe that smile off of the other's face.

Alastor stepped to the side as Lucifer rushed at him and watched the smaller man nearly trip and fall once more to the floor. He hummed, and laughed again, loud with the laugh track behind his voice. He was clearly entertained by the devil's inebriated state, which pissed Lucifer off even more. “Do you need help, sire?” He asked.

“Fuck you!” Lucifer snapped as he held his head, feeling a wave of nausea start to wash over him.

“I would rather not.” Alastor mused, a taunt, and he snickered quietly. “Be careful with saying those words too loud, you might wake a certain resident who wouldn’t be so averse to spending a night with royalty.”

That hadn’t been what he meant, the Radio demon knew that, he just wanted to get underneath the fallen angels' skin it seemed, and it was working. Lucifer's jaw clenched and he balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands before he took in a deep breath. Then he snapped his fingers, causing Alastors feet to become literally attached to the floor he was standing on.

Lucifer stalked toward him now that the other couldn’t move away and he saw Alastors eyes narrow as his smile tightened, the radio frequencies filling the air erratically. He moved the couch slightly with a wave of his hand so it was right behind the demon and then looked up at his face. The way Alastor stared down at him caused the anger to boil inside his chest more and it gave him the strength he needed.

The apple cane suddenly appeared inside his hand and the king used it to shove Alastor, shoving him hard with the cane right in his torso, causing the other to fall over the side of the couch onto the cushions as the power holding his feet disappeared completely.

Lucifer saw a flash of pain across the demon's face, the smile remaining couldn’t hide the pain inside the others' eyes, and for a moment he felt guilty. Then, as Lucifer stood there, stared at the demon as he laid on the couch, catching his breath, a hand over his torso, he could feel it. The fallen angel could feel the angelic energy radiating off of Alastors chest, he could feel it pulsating with every heartbeat and could feel it seeping further into the demon.

He sighed. A deep and long sigh as he realized what he had to do. The image of the disappointed face of Charlie flashing in his mind turned to one of grief and sadness. No, he wouldn’t let that happen to his little girl, he wouldn’t let that look ever cross her face again if there was anything he could do about it.

And so, even in his drunken state, the anger had completely dissipated and had been replaced. He leaned over the side of the couch, fighting off the next wave of nausea that came rushing forth, and he stared at the demon who glared up at him. Alastor went to get off the couch, wanting to get out from under the King and get away from feeling like he was cornered, however, when he went to move, Lucifer's hand came down and touched his chest.

A sharp radio noise came from Alastor at the touch, and Lucifer grunted. He undid the buttons on the demon's shirt and pulled away the soaked bandages, staring at the wound intently. “That looks like it-it hurts.” He commented offhandedly as he shook his head. Again, the cane was disregarded, no longer needing it and drunkenly not caring where it ended up at the moment. The fallen angel then hovered his hand over the wound, he knew in his current state he wouldn’t be able to heal it completely, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of the angelic radiation inside the wound that would continue to fester, but he could fight it off some and provide some pain relief.

The Radio demon had his concerns, that much was evident as his entire body tensed at the light emanating from the king's hand, and he gripped the edge of the couch as he felt the warmth on his torso, but his body relaxed on its own as the intense pain he had been feeling subsided to almost nothing. Alastor blinked twice as he looked down at the wound, watching bright light, and Lucifer smiled confidently, smugly, as he pulled his hand back. That would be all he could feasibly do for the night unless he wanted to pass out and fall on top of the demon. Which would be worse than the floor.

“I’m going… I’m going to… Fuck.” Lucifer moved away from the demon and shook his head a few times, grunting at his own slurring of his words. He needed to get to bed, even if he wasn’t going to sleep. If he was in his room at least then he wouldn’t embarrass himself so much.

Alastor, always one to keep a smile on his face, to keep the show going, smirked at the perfect opportunity to spin the scenario back around. “You’re not going to do that with me, sire.”

Lucifer growled and glared at Alastor, immediately regretting what he had done for the demon. “That wasn’t what-what I was fucking saying and-nd you know it.” He snapped. “Going to bed.” Short and to the point, no chance of messing it up that time.

Normally he would teleport himself to his room, it was easier and he wouldn’t have to walk as he wasn’t sure he could walk, but the risk of teleporting somewhere besides his room was a big enough fear that he decided he’d risk walking and falling on his face. So Lucifer turned away from the Radio demon and made his way carefully up the steps. He walked down the hallway, using the wall for support, and stopping every few feet to make sure he wasn’t going to be sick. Then he’d continue. And once he made it to his room, he congratulated himself before falling face first on the bed, burying his face into the pillows with a loud groan. He’d be regretting every single one of his life choices tomorrow, he knew that. He could already feel the regret with every passing wave of nausea threatening to win and take over. He’d have to tell Charlie, no more drinking nights for this old man, he couldn’t do it anymore.

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cherry-froggie · 1 year

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Hiii!! I see you 👁👁 I love love what you've been writing so far!! They're so fun to read and so intricately written I justxidhsigid ❤❤

Mayhaps,, request? If you write for Ayato! If not, you can just ignore this ❤❤ when Ayato was younger, there were times he'd sneak out,, and he made a friend (reader) ! So they'd always play (sometimes with ayaka) when Ayato manages to have time, and this went on for years, reaching up to their teen years when reader says they have to leave for a bit for whatever reason, promising they'd come back.

But!! News arrived that the ship you were boarding was hit by a horrible storm and sunk :( he was devastated bc his childhood bff and long time crush probs died ,,, fast forward to the present, someone drops by their estate looking for Ayato,, and lo and behold, reader! Still alive with scars they got from the ship sinking,, just v fluff hurt/comfort hehe >:)

Have fun writing! No pressure ❤❤

eternal devotion

pairing — Ayato x gn!reader

summary — Every year, since your disappearance, on your birthday, Ayato would leave his duties as the head of the Kamisato Clan to remember you for a day. So, when you finally reunite, will you still remember each other?

tags — fluff, hurt/comfort, more emotional than me when my cookies fall on the ground accidentally, also really long and tall like xiao

notes — @maaarshieee!!!! thank you so so so much for your request!! i really hope you like it! i did my best!! i really really love your works as well!!! I'll talk more at the end!!

words — 3,5k

MASTERLIST || REQUESTS

As Ayato stepped out of the Kamisato estate alone once more, his eyes drew to the grandeur of Inazuma's landscape. The lush forests stretched out before him, their leaves rustling in the wind like whispers of secrets. The rivers that flowed through the land sparkled like diamonds, reflecting the sunlight. Ayato couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom as he ventured out into the wild, like a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon.

During one of these escapades to the city, Ayato met you, the child of a relatively wealthy family. You were out on a walk with your family when you stumbled upon Ayato and his sister, Ayaka, exploring the city. You initiated a conversation, and before you knew it, you had become friends.

Together, the three of you spent your days exploring the natural wonders of Inazuma. You climbed towering cliffs that seemed to reach the sky, told stories of the gods and goddesses who watched over the land and wandered through verdant meadows filled with wildflowers.

Kamisato Ayato was a vision of grace and poise. As he walked, his lengthy, pale blue hair flowed behind him like a stream of moonlight. His eyes, a light purple, sparkled like amethysts in the daylight. His skin was as smooth and fair as porcelain, and a small mole under the left corner of his mouth added a hint of charming imperfection. He moved with a certain elegant ease, like a dance between the wind and the leaves. His smile was warm and inviting, like a ray of sunshine on a cold winter's day. He was the embodiment of beauty and nobility, and when he looked at you, it felt like everything around you melted away, leaving only the two of you in a world of your own.

As time passed, Ayato's responsibilities as the eldest son of the Kamisato Clan and future head of the Yashiro Commission began to weigh heavily on him. Despite this, he always found time to sneak out in the dead of night just to be with you. The regret of not being able to see you as much as he wanted led him to often find himself staring at the clock, counting the minutes until he could see you again. You became inseparable, and Ayato found solace in your company as you provided a much-needed getaway from the pressures of his future position.

But, when you reached your teenage years, you were forced to leave Inazuma to visit your family in other regions of Teyvat. You promised Ayato that you would return, but fate had other plans. News reached him that the ship you were on had been preyed on by a terrible storm and sunk in an unknown place, leaving Ayato devastated, believing that his childhood best friend had perished.

Years passed, and Ayato became the head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner, but he never forgot about you. He buried his feelings deep, knowing he could never be with you again. He threw himself into his duties, dedicating himself to the people of Inazuma and ensuring that the land remained prosperous and peaceful. But every night, before he closed his eyes, he would think of you and the memories you shared. The smell of wildflowers in the meadows, the sound of the river rushing by, and the warmth of the sun on your faces. These memories were like a balm to his soul, providing a moment of respite from his duties.

He would often find himself wandering the streets of Inazuma's city, lost in thought, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. The hustle and bustle of the marketplaces, the laughter of children playing in the streets, and the smell of fresh bread baking in the ovens. These were the same streets you had explored together as children, and they reminded him of the person he used to be, the person he was before the responsibilities of leading a clan consumed him.

But even as he dedicated himself to the people of his country, he never forgot about you. He searched for any information about the ship that had sunk, hoping against hope that you had somehow survived. He sent out search parties, but they all returned with nothing but disappointment. As the years passed, he came to accept that you were gone and that he would never see you again.

He built a life for himself, one filled with duty and responsibility, but there was always a part of him that was missing. A part that could never be filled by anything or anyone else. He knew that he would always carry a piece of you with him, and that piece would be a reminder of the love he had lost. But even though you were gone, you were still a part of him, and he would always hold you close to his heart.

He had tried to move on, but, like a seed that's trying to grow in rocky soil, he had never been able to let go of the memory of you. In the back of his mind, a voice constantly reminded him you were no longer by his side.

Every year, on the day of your birthday, Ayato would leave his duties as the head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner. He would make his way to the same areas and fields where you had once shared laughter and joy while feeling a profound ache in his chest. He would sit by the river, watching the water flow like his memories, remembering your happiness. He would visit the forest, where you had told each other stories of the gods and goddesses that protected the land. The tall trees seemed like a silent witness to the bond you had created, feeling the weight of your absence with each step he took. He always ended that day in the place where it all ended. His memory never let go of the exact words you spoke to him, the promise you had made to return as soon as you could so you could be with each other again, the garments you were wearing, how your beauty turned even the most beautiful star into a blur in the background. He would stand there, lost in memories, feeling the emptiness of your loss, holding on to the hope that you would return to him one day, but knowing deep down that it was unlikely.

Ayaka had watched her brother's heartbreak unfold every time since you were pronounced dead with everyone else inside the ship. She had seen the facade of perfection that Ayato constantly kept slipping away on that day, and there was nothing she could do but stand by and comfort him when it became too much for her to bear. Somehow, Ayato could never let go of you. Like a bird that had lost its wings, he felt lost, alone, and incomplete. He would often sit in silence, staring at the night sky, searching for the star that represented you, the one that would guide him back to you.

One day, an unexpected visitor came to the Kamisato Estate. The guards, used to the usual faces that frequented the estate, were taken aback by the appearance of a stranger at their doorstep. The person, who introduced themselves as [Name], was searching for the head of the Yashiro Commission with a sense of urgency in their voice as if the matters they had to discuss were of life and death importance.

The guard who stood at the door was skeptical of the stranger's claims, unsure of who they were and what business they had with the head of the Kamisato Clan. He couldn't shake off the uneasiness that crept up his spine as he asked Thoma to notify the Head of the Kamisato Clan of the visitor's arrival. The response he received was nothing short of a surprise, as the head of the Kamisato Clan wished to see this person immediately.

And so, as you walked through the gardens, memories of your childhood flooded back to you. They were still as lush and vibrant as you remembered, the flowers still as fragrant and beautiful as they had been all those years ago. Your heart ached with longing as you remembered all the days you had spent here, laughing and playing with the Kamisato siblings.

The closer you got to the door to Ayato's study, the more your nerves began to get a hold of you. Your hands were shaking, and your stomach was in knots. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. You were about to see the person who had been your best friend, your confidant since childhood.

Thoma announced your arrival after the guard opened the door, and you stepped inside. The room was well-lit thanks to the orange hues of the afternoon sun. Ayato sat at his desk with his head bent over a stack of papers. He looked up as you entered, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he stood up from his seat and walked to the middle of the room before stopping in his tracks. He then dismissed the guard and housekeeper and asked them to leave the room, leaving you alone with him.

As the heavy door closed behind you, the room was enveloped in the thick silence, as if the air was holding its breath. The light filtering through the window caught the dust particles in the air, making them dance like fireflies in the day's end's glow. The rich wood of Ayato's desk seemed to shine in the warm light, and the delicate irises on his windowsill seemed to come to life.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He stood tall, his eyes fixed on you, taking in every detail of your appearance. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind was racing with everything you wanted to say to him, but as you looked at him, you realized that words were not enough. The emotions you had kept hidden for so long were threatening to spill over, and you couldn't shake the fear that he might not recognize you, that he might not remember you after all this time. But you recalled those light purple windows to his soul that still held the same warmth and kindness that you had fallen in love with so many years ago.

You couldn't help but notice the way his tailored attire seemed to hug his frame, accentuating the strength he had gained from years of sword practice. His every move was calculated and controlled, but you could see the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

As he gazed into your eyes, the longing and love he felt for you stirred within him like a tempestuous storm. His chest felt heavy, and his throat constricted with the weight of unsaid words. He wanted to pour out his heart to you, to express the depth of his love and the extent of his eagerness to touch you, but the words refused to come. Instead, he stood there, silent and motionless, lost in you, conveying everything he couldn't put into words with a single, yearning gaze.

He took a step toward you, and it felt like time slowed down. You could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his hands twitched as if he was struggling to contain himself. And then, he was in front of you, and the world seemed to fade away.

He reached out and took your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and you felt the warmth of his touch spread through your body. The tears you had been holding back spilled down your cheeks, and you couldn't help but let out a soft sob. He pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, and you felt like you were finally home.

His scent, the sound of his heartbeat, the feel of his arms around you - it was all too much. You clung to him, tears streaming down your face. You could feel his cries dampening your hair.

As the two of you stood there, the world around you seemed to fade away. The elegant office of the Yashiro Commissioner, with its expensive furnishings and décor, was nothing but a distant memory. The past and the future didn't matter at that moment, all that mattered was that the two of you were finally together again, and nothing would ever be able to tear you apart.

Ayato's grip on you tightened as he whispered your name, his voice choked with emotion.

The light filtered through the window, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the two of you as if the gods themselves were blessing your reunion. As the tears dried on both of your faces, you looked up at him, and he looked down at you. The love in his eyes was undeniable. You leaned in to kiss him and it was as if all that was left in the universe was you and the one you loved.

It was a kiss filled with all the yearning, passion, and pain that you had both kept storming inside for so many years, a kiss that sealed the promise of a lifetime together, a kiss that marked the start of a new chapter in your lives, one that was the answer to all the prayers and wishes you had ever made.

Slowly, you pulled away, taking another moment to stare at each other's faces as if you couldn't get enough of them. With tears glistening in his eyes, he reached out to touch your face, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheeks and jawline as if memorizing every inch of your front. His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, and his eyes met yours in a gaze so intense it felt like it could set the world on fire. He held you like the most precious and delicate bird, "I never thought the day would come when I'd see you again. The thought of you never left my mind, even for a moment." he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

As Ayato pulled you into another hug, the quiet room was bathed with the echoes of your breathing. The sound of his heart beating against his chest was a soothing lullaby, the rhythm steady and strong, a reminder that you were finally back in the safety of his arms. The familiar scent of his clothes enveloped you, a mixture of earthy spices and the brittle freshness of the outdoors, a comforting reminder of the past.

You began to tell Ayato your story, while he listened intently, taking in every word, every detail. His heart raced as you spoke of being swept away by the storm that had hit Inazuma all those years ago. He could feel the suffering and despair in your trembling voice, and it broke his heart to think of the struggles you faced.

With each word you spoke, the vivid memories of the storm that had hit Inazuma all those years ago came back to torment you, the trauma still fresh in your mind. You remembered the deafening roar of the winds as they battered the ship, the feeling of being lifted off your feet, and the cold envelop of the ocean as you were swept away. The next thing you knew, you were waking up on a distant shore, the waves lapping at your feet and the sand gritty between your toes. You were alone, and everyone else from the ship was nowhere to be found.

You described how you had stumbled upon a kind fisherman who had also taken your parents in. His small cottage was nestled on the edge of the beach, and the smell of saltwater and fish filled the air. He had been your savior, nursing you back to health with the help of his wife, who had provided you with a warm bed and a hot meal. He had even provided you with his boat, so you could journey to the closest place to your relatives.

You explained how you had heard the news that everyone had survived the shipwreck, but no one knew where they were or how to return home, scattered across multiple small islands in the middle of the ocean. The fisherman had helped you navigate the treacherous waters and eventually brought you to a nearby village, where you had sent word to your relatives about your survival. However, it seemed that the Kamisato estate had not received the news yet.

When you finished your story, tears streamed down his face as he muttered apologies, tears of sorrow for the pain you had endured, and tears of joy that you were back in his arms.

His head hung low with his expression filled with regret. The light coming from the windows cast shadows on his face, highlighting the lines of concern etched deep into his skin. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, consumed by the thought that he should have been there to protect you, to keep you safe from the storm that had taken you away.

You reached out, your hand gently lifting his chin until his eyes met yours again. "It's not your fault," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You couldn't have known what would happen."

The warmth of your touch seemed to break through the shame that had consumed him, and he let out a deep sigh, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He looked at you, taking in the sight of you, so close and yet so far. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, the memories of the past flooding back in an overwhelming wave. He closed the distance between you with one more kiss.

As Ayato's lips met yours, your fears seemed to vanish. The sun had just begun to set, casting a golden light over the Kamisato estate. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the distant chirping of crickets. At that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in each other's embrace.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heart beating in sync with yours, and it was like the two of you had always been meant to be together. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands between them. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he deepened the kiss, and you knew that you never wanted to let go.

The two of you stood there, lost in the moment, for what felt like an eternity. The kiss was filled with all the love, longing, and longing that had been building up for years. The love that had been there since the day you first met. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you finally let go of the pain and sadness that had been a part of you for so long.

When the kiss came to an end, Ayato pulled back, looking into your eyes with tenderness. He whispered to you, his breath sending shivers down your skin "My heart has been yours since the day we met, [Name], and my love for you has only grown stronger over the years. I cannot bear the thought of being separated from you again."

You promised him that you would stay by his side for the rest of your life, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

Long after the moon rose, Ayato led you to a spot on the estate with a small pond surrounded by trees and bushes, and the water was so clear that you could see the fish swimming below. You sat down on the wooden deck, and Ayato sat beside you.

The two of you sat there for hours, talking and laughing, and it was as if no time had passed at all. He told you about everything that had happened while you were away, and you could see the dedication in his eyes to keep Inazuma even better than when you left.

As the night began to come to an end, Ayato turned to you and took your hand in his. He looked into your eyes and promised to love and protect you for the rest of his days. He swore that he would never let anything come between the two of you again and that he would spend the rest of his days making up for the time you had lost.

MASTERLIST || REQUESTS

WOW this was LONG LONG, i really wasn't expecting to write this much, so i really hope everyone enjoyed it, especially maaarshiee!!!

you really have no idea how much time this took, i literally didn't do anything else today LOL so I'm REALLY hoping this is a masterpiece of the century jkjk, but i think this could've been much better, there's a lot to improve, but i hope you enjoyed it anyway!

i'll be honest, i was never the biggest fan of ayato, but, you know, writing this made me feel a little something i might start reading some more ff about him

BUT OMG RECEIVING AN ASK FROM MAAARSHIEEE MADE ME WEAK LIKE YES I LOVE YOUR WRITING AS WELL PLEASE I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH

anyways, besides me being a fangirl, i would like to thank everyone for your continuous support to my blog!!!!!! if you like my writing and genshin impact, i'd encourage you to see my masterlist! you might find something you like!

if there are any mistakes, i'll correct them tomorrow, I'm really tired rn!

thank you so much for reading!! have a great day/nigh, whoever and wherever you are!

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wolkoshka · 1 year

Text

Paranormal

summary: you meet Ghost for the second time at Soap’s birthday/costume party and this time, you promise to get a taste of the man behind the mask. Simon Riley/Ghost x Reader

warnings: slow-burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, mutual pining, excessive drunk flirting, slightly dark!Simon, touch-starved Simon, trying to get into Simon’s pants (and sort of succeeding??), nsfw-themed

•this is a simon riley ficlet, I repeat, this is not a one-shot but contains a bit of plot and character development, bcs god knows we need 'em

•part 1/2

word count: 5k+

London was drenched, blinding flashes forking out amidst midnight clouds rolling in a hailing storm.

Or it was pishin' doon oot there, as your childhood best friend would call it.

His birthday, along with the rain, had just stormed in, and since he was being deployed on another mission tomorrow, he wanted to party as soon as the clock struck midnight.

Excitement buzzed in your veins, and not because of the party - well, partially - but because of a certain someone you were impatient to meet again.

On cue, lightning flashed as a strong kick to the bar's door burst it open - and in strut you, Ghostbuster uniform on full display. Except, this one's slutty. And there's only one ghost that needed catching tonight.

All commotion stopped to regard you.

Tossing the umbrella into a rack, you kicked the door shut with your heel.

With shorts hugging the plump of your ass, a form-fitting jacket unzipping down the front to reveal your salacious cleavage, and waist and thigh straps securing the proton pack to your back coupled with the knee-high boots four inches tall, you knew you were a sight to behold.

The bar was swarming with familiar faces of both military and mutual friends.

You dramatically posed, the gun of the proton pack activated. “Heard there was something strange in your neighborhood.”

Low whistles and compliments rebounded. “There’s something strange happening in my pants right now!” one male enthusiastically called from the back.

“Haud yer weesht,” a familiar voice reprimanded, soon followed by an effective smack.

From a sea of shark fins, faerie wings, and numerous superhero costumes, a Mohawk head popped out. Your expression abruptly brightened and you twirled performatively as Johnny shouldered through the bodies and took you in a big, tight hug.

The heat of his body singed into your chilled one, enveloping you.

“Ay ye bastard. Ye actually made it.”

Embracing him equally as tightly, you smothered him with kisses on the face. You hadn’t seen him for three months now. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny-bo-bonnie. Mwah, mwah, mwah. That one’s from mum.”

A hearty laugh. “Don’t tell me - she baked me something real delicious and you ate it.”

“Guilty as charged.”

He put you down, and you stepped back to take in his outfit: a bathrobe, slippers, and polka dotted blue swim trunks. His chest was bare and suave sunglasses perched on his head.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

He splayed his arms wide open, a shit-eating grin revealing straight, white teeth. “A man on a well-earned vacation.”

You playfully slapped him on the chest. “Good one.” From your proton pack, you withdrew a box. A present. “Here. Gotchu something.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another soap.”

“Why? Were you showered with them tonight?” A snort-laugh. “Get it? Shower? Soap?”

“Harr, harr, harr.” He thumbed over his shoulder at a shrine of soaps forming a pyramid on a table. “Suddenly, everyone’s so bloody hilarious tonight.”

You made a noise of intrigue. “Do they smell nice?”

“Don’t care. What did you get me?” He palmed the box, opening it.

“I’m taking some if they do.”

“Go crazy, lass.” A soft gasp. Then, “O feckin’ feck me.”

“I know, I know. I know you too well. It’s my curse,” you sighed, but smiled when he took out the expensive bottle of GlenDronach, his favorite scotch.

“Happy birthday, sucker.”

He looped an arm around your neck, hugging you close and kissing you on the temple. “And that’s why you’re my favorite best friend.”

"Other best friends, huh? Take that back or I’ll Bath and Body Works your arse next time I see you.”

“Roger that.”

Arm still corded around your shoulders, he turned your bodies to the bar - and there he was.

Ghost.

Simon Riley, you learned his name was.

The muse that lingered in every afterthought, in the darkness of the night, while sleep cooed you into a moment of silence your heart beat fast and loud enough to fight off - just to win more time thinking of the man who did not even care for your existence.

A soft gasp parted your lips.

His back was to you, broad and tall, as he conversed with Price, head tilting ever so often in remark.

He sported a dark brown leather jacket over a black hoodie and equally as dark cargo pants. His combat boots hugged up his strong calves, his legs parted over the bar stool he perched on, meaty thighs barely fitting.

He wasn't in costume. You guessed he dressed as a ghost mirroring a civilian.

Despite the chaos circulating him, his poise was calm and collected, but not unaware, the stiffness in his shoulders stating as much.

A killer of killers, apex predator of the fittest, his prowess was unmatched in the battlefield, and to witness a man of his caliber exist in environment simple and mundane had a startling effect.

Menacing, you thought, a bite to your lower lip.

"See somethin' you like?" Soap humorously chuckled.

You'd met Ghost three months prior, while Task Force 141 was deployed on a private mission to locate Shepherd's current hideout, and as a private contractor who'd built many commercial, private, and government facilities - wherever the clients needed them built - you'd come across one personally requested by Shepherd himself.

It was a long time ago, but your memory had not failed you.

By the shores of Chile, was a property laid out by you, the blueprint of it handed off to Soap to investigate.

Screw client confidentiality when your best friend's life was put in danger by a betraying bastard.

It was then, as you'd climbed into the SUV to hand the blueprint, you'd made out a humongous shape in your peripheral and screamed out in reaction.

It hadn't helped when it was a skull staring right into your very soul.

"Ah, a common reaction to Ghost," Soap had commented. "Lt, meet my best friend," he said your name, and to you, "meet Lt. Ghost. Simon."

Simon.

You'd wiggled your fingers a hello at him. "What a name. Pleased to meet you."

He hadn't responded, had merely stared before looking out the window.

Right then and there, he was an enigma you couldn't deny. You'd decided to make him look your way however and whichever way you could.

"Johnny, be done with it," he'd grated out when you and Soap got lost in the gossip, the husk and deep gravel of his voice eliciting a full-on body shiver from you.

You'd stolen the name he'd given your best friend, calling him Johnny from that day onwards.

Now, here he was anew. A few more steps and within reach, you merely had to walk to him.

Excitement buzzed in your veins.

You smoothed a hand down your outfit. "Do you think he'll appreciate the joke?"

"Knowing Lt and his humor, or lack thereof actually, he might just hate himself for loving it too much."

A giddy feeling spurted in your chest. "You think?"

"Oh, yea. But go easy on him," he added, peering down at you, brow arched, "the man just landed from a solo mission. There's an uneasy air about him tonight. The fact that he's even attending is gift enough for me."

"That means he's tired, grumpy, and susceptible to an easy one night stand. Just my type of target."

"Ay ye vixen. I said go easy. Here," he lowered the zipper on your chest, revealing more of your cleavage, "that's better. Now go get him. God knows he needs it," he grumbled the last part.

Happily, you almost skipped your way to him. But just before reaching, two bodies swarmed you, hugging you close and screaming in your ear over the bar music. Your friends from college.

"Where have you been!"

"It's so good to see you again, come!"

You were dragged away, more distance than you'd like being put between you and Simon. Nooo.

It wasn't after two hours of losing yourself in the crowd, dancing with people, with Johnny, backs pressing together to roll to the beat of the songs in your sickest moves, that you, downing more margaritas than you could count, summoned back your wits and sauntered your way to the bar.

Plopping down on a stool next to his, you mirthfully laughed, buzzed out of your mind.

The melodious sound cut his conversation short with Price and dragged his attention to you, and - oh, fuck.

Those eyes.

Even in your stupor you admitted to their allure.

He walked, talked, like a man who's had his flesh peeled from his bones. Eyes too haunted to be alive, too haunted to be dead.

A man imprisoned in the infinite present that neither knew him reprieve or end.

You were so lost in them that you didn't say anything to him for a long moment. Then, "Hi," you lowly voiced, grinning like a fool who just got the best present under the Christmas tree.

Reminding yourself to be sexier, you opted for a, "What is a girl like you doing...sitting all alone when a hunk like me is right here?"

Your brows furrowed in the middle. No, that didn't sound right. You tried again.

"What is a girl like me doing with...with a hunk like you, sitting...all... No, that's not it either."

The bulk of him shifted in his seat, whiskey in a gloveless hand, as he now regarded you.

To be the sole focus of those eyes, it killed you. Like honeyed whiskey swirling with the silver clouds of storm outside, it made you feel more drunk than you already were.

But you could see how tired he really was, eyes rimmed red, thin veins stark against the white of his sclera.

"All right," he spoke, tone indulging, but rigid and gravely as the rest of him. "You have my attention."

You did? Success!

Even with the balaclava hiding that no doubt beautiful face of his, you complimented him, afraid that if you didn't, you'd be committing a heinous crime.

"You are." You hiccupped. "You are so pretty."

"And you are shit-faced. Had too much to drink, did ya?"

You leaned in, eyes twinkling with something wicked that even he could not deny.

"Liquid courage," you drawled. And then laughed again, dusky and free.

Price, having noticed where the conversation was heading, turned away with a warm chuckle.

"I'll leave you two to it," he said, giving his attention fully to Gaz, who sat to his left.

You waved at the boys, all giddy. And then motioned with your finger to Ghost's waist, as if to say you were going to get inside his pants. Oh, yes, he was the object of your desires.

Gaz chocked on his bottle of beer.

Price palmed his mouth to stifle a laugh. Unsuccessfully.

Ghost, on the other hand, when you glanced up at him, had his lids hooded.

In his language, that might as well translate to a glower.

"You have one minute," he almost barked out. Glower, indeed.

You straightened, expression serious. You gave him a captain's two-finger salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Then, before he could toss you out the window of the bar, you followed it up with, "Heard you like jokes. Do you like mine?"

You motioned to your costume.

He followed the movement, gaze raking down your body, and then slowly up, blond lashes fluttering. When his eyes landed on your cleavage, heat filled them, and in reaction, warmth spooled low in your belly.

"Clever," he throatily remarked, glancing away to his whiskey.

All for you.

His compliment added even more heat to your belly, and you blushed, biting your lip.

"I have more where that came from."

A low rumbling sound. It took you a while to decipher it as a hum. "Is that what the courage was for? Not in the mood, poppy."

His rejection would have floored you had you not been already sat.

Not giving up, you leaned further in, fingers trailing over his leathered forearm that rested on the counter. If one focused enough, they'd also spot the slight tremble in them.

At the closeness, he craned his head down slightly to give you a warning look.

It was dark and foreboding, commanding you to watch the boundaries he'd laid or you might just pay the price.

Any man would have run the other direction. But you were not a man. You were horny. For him. Your desire for Ghost had been stoking for months now, and this very moment, so close to him, you thought you might burn alive with it.

You needed him between your legs, feeding his length into you, assuaging the ache that had made a home there with a friction only he could create.

His scent filled your lungs, and you visibly shuddered. He smelled of the storm outside and something else, something masculine and singular only to him.

If you weren't already drunk, the mere heat of him would've rendered you stupid.

Maybe it had, because the next words out of your mouth were sultry and promising.

"You know, it is not ghosts that haunt, but rather they are the haunted. Give me one night, and I might just chase them all away."

You gently dropped from your stool then, stepping into the space between his parted legs, hands daringly skimming over his robust thighs - before warmly palming them, fingertips digging in his cargo pants.

And he was letting you. That fact alone made your head reel.

Face tilting up, you bopped your chin against his clothed one.

At that, Ghost breathed in deep, and then breathed out slow.

Were you getting to him? Or was he really just tired to deal with you, as Johnny had warned?

Only one way to find out.

"I have another joke for you," you hummed. His lids dropped to your lips, and stayed there. You licked them for emphases, the pink tip of your tongue leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

A sound started in his chest, the beginnings of a groan, you guessed, before he quashed it, and you wanted to whine like a little girl who'd been denied her favorite sweet.

"Be out with it," he lowly grinded out.

A small, playful smirk. "What do you call a man who's great at sex with a sigh and moan in his name?"

An intrigued huff, but it came out rasped. "Go on then."

You stretched to your toes, back bowing and perked breasts brushing against his hardened chest. As you dug the heels of your palms into his thighs, your lips trailed up his jawline and nestled right at his ear.

"Simon," you heatedly whispered, making sure to actually moan the last syllable.

When you pulled your face back an inch, you saw his pupils blown, a frightening darkness overshadowing all color. His breathing had deepened, turned almost harsh, but quiet, as his suddenly ravenous look made your knees weak.

You'd never seen his eyes glimmer like that, so predatory, and that turned you on more. So much so that molten heat drooled out of you, soaking your panties. Did he know the effect he had on you?

His hand traveled up between your bodies, and blood rushed in your ears, your heart palpitating. Had you done it? Were you finally going to know the taste of him? Know how his lips felt against yours, moving, devouring? How hotly his kiss melted every inch of you?

As anticipation coiled tight in your stomach, his iron knuckles pressed into your lower chest, right below your revealed cleavage - and nudged you away.

You plopped back down to your heels, taking steps back the more he outstretched his arm and pushed you farther, like he couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as you.

Confused, hurt - a look you did your best to mask - you searched his expression. There was nothing to gain, masked as he was.

"Point made, love," his deep - deeper - timbre chafed the air between your bodies. "But not tonight. Not in the mood. Go on, now. Dance with Johnny, will ya?"

Humiliation blistered your cheeks and you quickly sobered - and felt increasingly sick to your stomach.

He'd just dismissed you like you were some schoolgirl acting out in his classroom.

Hands balling into tight fists, you stole a determined step toward him. You'd worked quite hard on those jokes, mind him.

"Some fun, you are. What, afraid of a little pleasure?"

He leisurely blinked. "Pleasure's not what I'm afraid of," he began only to cut himself short. A glower crowned his ashen brows, smudged by the eye paint, and he grumbled something under his breath you could not make out.

Swaying a bit on your feet - liquid courage, your arse - you flipped back your hair. "Fine. I'll find somebody else to have fun with." Then, inching closer to him, you leaned in to drunkenly whisper, "And when they're balls deep inside of me, I'll still wish it was you."

The glass of whiskey shattered in his grasp when he fisted it too hard, and that groan, that heavenly, wonderful sound of peak male frustration, finally escaped.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, poppy."

With a cheery twirl, you marched away, lithe shoulders blanketed by the crowd, and left the ever stunned lieutenant to his devices.

But his rejection still chafed you, and, oh, God, you needed to get wasted. So wasted, this night would never come back to haunt you again.

. ☾ .

It wasn't after another hour of dancing, partying, and singing sappy songs at the top of your lungs with Johnny and the gang, even tipsily sniffing some stacked soaps and secretly hiding the ones you liked in your bra, you finally found yourself in your designated spot - hunched over a toilet seat and vomiting the contents in your stomach.

It was expected. You'd drank and drank and drank... And now, your whole world swam.

A wretched sound tore from your throat as another round lurched out of your mouth, splattering into the toilet.

You groaned, vision blurred. Ew.

Settling back, you wiped at your lips with your wrist, heaving. So much for having a good time. But Johnny was happy, so you were happy. With his dangerous line of work and your stressful one, you two deserved such nights of peerless fun.

Like the good 'ole times, something Johnny must've needed too, since he didn't usually celebrate his birthdays. But when he did, oh, shit hit the fan in the most amazing ways.

Recalling some of your escapades, you smiled to yourself, completely unaware of the large silhouette shadowing past the doorway.

The lavatory door whined closed.

At the sound, you looked up.

Ghost stilled in his steps, cocking his head at you in question.

You huffed. "What are you doing in the ladies' bathroom?"

"This is the men's." He thumbed his right, where the urinals lined the wall.

What?

This whole time you were hunched over the men's toilet seat?

Another round of nausea shot up your throat, uncalled for, and you bent over the toilet in time to unflatteringly decorate it.

Gross!

This was so not how you wanted your night to end with Simon, either.

At his retreating steps, you immediately clambered to your shaky feet. "Please, don't leave. I get scared when vertigo hits." Such pathetic admittance, but it was the truth. When your world spun out of control, so did your fears.

He stopped. Looked over his shoulder.

You tried to hurry to him, but knocked one ankle against the other, and unceremoniously tripped. Hard. Head first, down you thwacked against the marbled flooring.

You blacked out.

When you slowly came to, webs of darkness blurring the edges of your vision, you moaned your distress. Bit by bit, Ghost's face registered, hovering over yours, his Manchester accent thick with how he roughly ordered you to come to.

Blinking up at him, you deliriously raised your hand to pat his masked cheek but to no avail. Darling man. Were you dreaming? If so, you never wanted to wake up. You smiled a small smile at him.

"Hi," you whispered. You sounded so wasted and oh, so enamored. Sober you was going to have a serious conversation with drunk you tomorrow.

"Don't move. Easy, now, yeah?" He pushed you down when you weakly fought to rise up. "You're bleedin' all over the place, poppy."

You tried to reason with him, say how disgusting the floor was and you could never lay down there.

"Should've thought of that before drinkin' your posh arse stupid, yeah?" was his argument.

Dream Simon was mean.

"I'm posh," you hummed out a silly laugh. "Posh like a Spice Girl."

"Be quiet," he roughed out, unimpressed. From his pocket, he withdrew a glove and pressed it against your temple.

A throbbing ache hissed where the clothe touched your skin, and you winced.

After a stringing moment, "Why do you hate me?" you softly asked.

His eyes focused on you then, deep and intrusive, and you licked your lips in consequence.

"I don't hate you," came his gruff retort.

"So then why won't you kiss me?"

A slow blink away from your face. He might as well have rolled his eyes. "You don't want to kiss a man like me, poppy."

Why? Because it would rock your socks off? Render you into a silly little mess? Make your dirtiest dreams come true?

Even with a bleeding temple, you understood the meaning behind his words. Maybe even rejection. He was a dangerous man, callous and brutal. Men like him only caused pain and destruction, spawned nightmares and reveled in the blood spilled.

But from the stories you've heard of him, especially from Johnny, and from your own little interaction, you saw more than the mask he donned. Saw past it to something buried in him. Something guarded so very deep inside, not even sunlight could pierce the shadows around it, but it was there. And you saw it even now, drunk and utterly wasted you may be.

Maybe he thought he'd hurt you. Maybe he tumbled rough and mean under the sheets. At the image, arousal ignited in your veins, backlit behind the wall of drowsiness and pain that still coursed through your system.

"And... And if I still do? Would you kiss me then?"

"Negative."

A pout.

"How's your vision?"

With you in it, "Good."

A clipped nod. "I'll help you to your feet. And then we can take care of that nasty little wound there, yeah?"

"Aye, aye, captain," you murmured.

When he pressed the glove a bit too deeply into the wound, you immediately rectified your words. "I meant, yes, sir. As you say, sir."

A hum, low and raspy. "That's more like it."

Slowly but surely, you climbed to your feet. For a moment, your vision went black and your ears rang, and you paused, waiting for the darkness to pass. Simon waited with you.

"Better?" he asked when you straightened, touching where his glove pressed against your temple. Your fumbling hand fell upon his leanly adroit one.

Skin grazed skin, electrifying warmth rivaled warmth, and you softly gasped. You nodded, gaze lost in the sheer view of him.

Ghost towered over you, your head lining his broad chest, and you suddenly felt engulfed. It certainly didn't help when the reality of him ending you with just the flick of his wrist if he so willed hovered over your consciousness.

God, he was so big. Just the mass of him and how he crowded any room he was in, made your mouth salivate.

And now, enveloped in his masculine heat, he was all you could see, hear, smell.

Feel.

"Don't look at me with eyes like that, poppy," he gravely warned, lids hooded as he stared you down.

Your throat tightened, lungs drawing in as all air escaped you. "And how am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm dinner."

You moaned despite yourself. It was achingly soft and needy.

You wanted to taste him in the back of your throat, feel his throbbing weight on your tongue, mouth working him mad enough that being pushed over the edge of insanity was his only option. And when that happened, you wanted to know how he sounded as all shred of control left him, his back arching as he spilled all he was worth in you, pumping and pumping, still in desperate chase of that high.

"Bloody hell, still with that look. Not a good listener, are ya? Come 'ere." He dragged you between the two sinks. "Lean against the wall." You did as told, back flattening against the large mirror mounted to it. He opened the faucet and let the cool water run as he wet the glove.

Ruggedly, "Stay still."

With that, he squeezed the water out and slowly got to work, dabbing around the wound and cleaning you up. It was a painstakingly tedious process, but you didn't mind, wincing here and there as you watched him tend to you.

See? Something more in there.

You studied the furrow in his brow, the sharp concentration in his eyes, the even rise and fall of his shoulders, and thought you lost a little bit of your mind for him.

He rinsed the glove, squeezed it, and resumed his task. His hand palmed the whole top of your head as he maneuvered you in whichever way he liked, tilting your face up, down, to the side, as he reached all spots inflicted.

The rough pad of his thumb pinned over the arch of your brow, and you thought you felt him subtly brush at it in his nursing.

When he caught you dumbly staring up at him for the third time, he broke the comfortable silence. "Shouldn't be drinking that much."

Had he been keeping tabs on you? Such wishful thinking, but butterflies still took flight in your tummy. You watched his masked face.

If his lips weren't shielded, you thought you'd feel his breath ghost over your cheeks.

Instead, you innocently batted your lashes at him. "Am I in trouble...sir?" you teasingly - sultrily - added.

He was in the process of wetting the glove when his gaze snapped down to you.

It was brief, but there was a flash of desire behind those lidded eyes before he subdued it with the subtle clench of his jaw.

The air in the room, on the other hand, he could not manipulate. It altered, thickened, became...hotter. Tension pulsed from his body raw and electrifying.

When he gradually straightened, protruding his chest, you suddenly felt suffocated - in the best of ways.

In the sizzling silence, you felt cornered, and your lips parted in anticipation.

He spoke, his words measured and roughish, betraying nothing. "You're bleedin' all over the place and yet you still can't keep it in your pants, mm, poppy?"

You bit your lip, a muffled sound of excitement building up in your chest for provoking a Special Forces soldier - Lieutenant - of all people. "Mhm."

You were stupidly giddy. He merely shook his head at you.

Then, he was watching you again, blond lashes fluttering as his gaze traced over your features, slowly, so agonizingly slow, before settling on your lips. You felt the heat of his stare on them.

A small sound got caught up in your throat, and it wasn't missed by him.

"Do I excite you, little one?" he quietly hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest, crackling ever so slightly, and it felt like honeyed butter melting down your skin.

A tremor racked your entire form, arousal burning your pupils wide and your breath scorching hot - all for him to witness and take in.

It must've pleased him, because he gave you the sexiest bedroom eyes you've ever beheld, the sheer fever in them sweltering and wild.

Huskily, "Yeah?" He stepped forward, large boots emitting no sound. You pressed further up against the wall, chin brushing over the leather of his jacket.

A thin layer of sweat dotted your skin at his nearness, your body involuntarily heating up, an unbearable ache building up between your legs.

And you thought Simon knew exactly what he was doing to your senses, because he followed it up with, "You look at the mask and think you're goin' to get fucked hard, is that it?"

His fingers lightly pinched your chin, his thumb darting up to caress the underside of your lower lip, grazing the edges and eliciting a ticklish sensation.

A needy whine from you caused that broad chest of his to collapse in a visible shudder. Seeing the reaction you pulled from him, your mouth fell open in want, and you meekly grinded up your hips against his thighs.

Your clothed core skimmed over the rough texture of his cargo pants, catching on a crease, but it was enough friction to have your head falling back against the mirror and you keening.

"More," you hotly moaned, feeling wetness seep out of you.

You tested the waters again, widening your stance and rolling your hips upward. Your clit meshed tight against his solid thigh, and when you rubbed it in gradual circles, grinding down, his thigh muscles bulged in response, hitting a sensitive nerve.

"Fuck," you gasped, mouth parting wider. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. "Ghost, please."

With a commanding grip of your hip, he stilled your ministrations. "None of that, poppy," he hoarsely warned. Then, "Shit," he lowly grunted when he felt your hips fight his hand for more stimulation, "That bad, huh?"

You mustered a nod, eyes never leaving his. "Want you," you breathed out.

"Can't have me." A small shake of his head. "Won't give you what you want. 'Sides, you're drunk out of your mind, love."

With that, he released you, backing away before you could reach for him.

Suddenly bereft, you wanted to shout your dissent.

Instead, your body laxed against the wall, palms clutching the coolness of the tiled wall. You already missed his nearness. His hands on you. You didn't want this moment to end.

You didn't want him to go.

Not so soon, anyway. Because God knew he'd make promise to his sobriquet.

"Wash your face. And get your shit together. That's a direct order," resounded his harsh command. If you hadn't wallowed too deep in his rejection, you might've caught the way his hands fisted at his sides when you whined in frustration.

With a defeated slump of your shoulders, you commanded your legs work and rounded the sink.

Palming the rushing water, you went about washing your hands and thoroughly rinsing your mouth. All sensation of him drowned with the water, leaving your skin cool to the touch.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he added more softly, which still grated the air.

Your heart seized in your chest. Why the sudden care?

What game did he play with you? Because one moment, he looked like he wanted to ravish you and the next, like he couldn't get away from you fast enough. Which was it, did you repulse him or attract him?

When he touched you, it was never deeply, desperately, but lightly, airily, leaving you begging for more.

And making him ever estranged.

What was his problem?

What was yours?

Why did you desire this particular man so wantonly? You had to find yourself a fling for the night. You had to flush Ghost out of your system for good.

You had to go home.

How you were going to accomplish both in one night, though, you had no clue.

Yes, while sober, you might have soldiered through the trauma to your head, but right now, still drunk and dizzy, you couldn't tell your elbow from your arse.

Splashing another round of cool water over your face, you grunted when you accidentally swept over your wound.

Appearing much like a drowned rat than the intended sexy Ghostbuster, you shut the faucet, clutched the edges of the sink and lifted your head to stare in the mirror.

Your eyes fell on Ghost.

He quietly watched you watch him from the reflection, a looming shadow in the background, waiting. You expected him to abscond you, but he remained - and that gladdened you beyond belief. Which also now irritated you.

He extended his glove to you.

Breath suddenly shaky, you turned around, the ugly bruised cut on your temple momentarily forgotten. When you made to step forward, crimson blanketed your left eye, and you swiped at it. In the haze, you saw your fingers coated in dark red.

"Bollocks." You started bleeding again. "No need for a hospital. I live a street down. I have a med kit. I'll..." You creased your brows in thought, still tipsy. "I'll care for it at home. Yes. And since you blue-balled me, I intent on finding someone to do the naughty with. I need you out of my system and out of my mind."

Oh, sober you was really going to sit you down tomorrow morning, all right.

He didn't respond to you.

The journey to Ghost proved to be a dangerous one, as the floor and walls adamantly dodged you, making your world swing whichever way you grasped for leverage.

You felt like you existed in a gigantic ball rolling down a hill at full-speed just waiting to burst and send you flying through the air. And you were in a hell of your own making.

Barking out a curse, you heard Ghost stomp your way - before you felt strong arms band around your shoulders and under your knees, effectively hoisting you up in his arms. "You are trouble, poppy. And you won't be taking care of anything in this state. I'll drop you home."

With that, he carried you out of the restroom, the bar, and into the chilled night of London city.

an: it got too long, yall, too long! this is part 1 of 2 for now. i couldn't help it, when i write, i write. part 2, we're ghostin' it up! (therell be smut) hope you enjoyed it!

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athousandbyeol · 3 months

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heartlore. [forcebook fanfic]

kasidet thinks jiratchapong is breathtaking—or maybe it's the wine talking. but possibly, he's not the only one trying—because jiratchapong knows it's never enough—wanting.

chapter 1. / chapter 2. / chapter 3.

#thai rpf #forcebook #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #alternate universe - office #pov first person #slow romance #crushes #love at first sight #slice of life #social commentary #fluff #hurt/comfort #intimacy #stream of consciousness #this story is set in the 80s and forcebook (along with jimmysea) are slightly older than their real age by 1~2 years #this is just feelings tbvh #na writes #for forcebook

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euphoriacafe · 2 months

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If I Loved You Series

Master List for Series

Word count: 4,255

Relationships: F/M, M/M, F/F -> ObiWan/OC - Anakin/Padmé - OC/OC

Series Spice: Smut, Angst, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Friends to Lovers, *Heavy Tension*

WARNING ⚠️: Nothing this chapter.

MDNI with series +18 -> A03 version & Wattpad version

Chapter One

The Queen's Departure

[ Phantom Menace timeline - 32 BBY ]

As I sit upon my throne, surrounded by my loyal handmaidens, advisors, and diplomats, I cannot shake the knot of anxiety that tightens in my stomach. This royal starship, with its sleek design and polished surfaces, is a world away from the familiar comforts of my home planet. Today marks the first time I have ventured beyond its protective borders, and the weight of responsibility hangs heavy upon my shoulders.

I watch as my attendants move about the chamber, their voices blending into a murmur of discussion. They speak of alliances and negotiations, of the challenges that await us on Coruscant. But beneath their confident words, I sense the same apprehension that tugs at my own heart.

I eye each person in turn, searching for reassurance in their faces. My handmaidens, with their gentle smiles and steady hands, offer silent encouragement. My advisors, with furrowed brows and whispered conversations, strive to impart their wisdom upon me. And my diplomats, with their polished manners and carefully chosen words, seek to navigate the treacherous waters of intergalactic politics. I steadied my gaze, meeting the eyes of my advisors, and diplomats in turn. Their expressions ranged from hopeful to cautious, mirroring my own uncertainty as they looked away from me.

But despite their efforts, I cannot shake the feeling of unease that grips me. Leaving my home planet feels like stepping into the unknown, like casting adrift upon a vast and unfathomable sea. Will Coruscant heed our plea for aid? Will they recognize the struggle of my people, struggling beneath the weight of poverty and oppression?

Only time will tell.As the murmurs continue to swirl around me, I take a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in my voice. The eyes of my entourage turn towards me, and I feel the weight of their expectations pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

"Esteemed advisors and trusted diplomats," I begin, my voice carrying more authority than I feel within. "Our journey to Coruscant is not just a diplomatic mission; it is a plea for the survival of our people. The Senate must hear our case, and we must convince them to lend us their aid."

A hushed silence settles in the chamber as all eyes remain fixed on me. I turn my gaze to my advisors, their faces etched with the gravity of the situation. Seeking wisdom, I meet the eyes of my most trusted counselor, Lord Arion, whose lined face betrays the weight of his years of service.

"What would be our plan to sway the Senate in our favor?" I inquired, my words tinged with both urgency and apprehension.

Lord Arion steps forward, his voice measured and calm. "Your Highness, we must present our case with conviction and clarity. The Senate values evidence and reason. We must compile a thorough detailing of the hardships faced by our people, the struggles we endure daily, and the urgent need for assistance. Facts and figures will be our allies in this situation."

His words offer a semblance of reassurance, but the tension in the room remains heavy. I turn to my chief diplomat, Lady Seraphina, who approaches with a calm demeanor that belies the storm of emotions within me.

"Your Majesty," Lady Seraphina begins, "we must also forge alliances with influential senators who can champion our cause. Personal connections often wield more influence than mere words. We must navigate the delicate dance of politics, appealing to their sense of empathy and self-interest."

Nodding in understandment, I contemplate the path that lies ahead. The enormity of the task before us presses down, and my heart races with the weight of responsibility. As Lady Seraphina finishes speaking, I can't help but feel a surge of doubt coursing through me. "But how can we ensure that the Senate will even acknowledge the existence of our planet?" I ask, my voice betraying the uncertainty that gnaws at my core. "And do you believe they will dismiss us simply because of my age?"

Lord Arion offers a sympathetic smile before responding. "Your Majesty, we will use every available channel to make our case known. We will petition senators, lobby influential figures, and utilize the resources at our disposal to ensure that our message reaches the ears of those who hold power. As for your age, while some may underestimate you, we will prove that your wisdom and determination far outweighs any doubts they may have."

His words offer a glimmer of hope, but the shadow of uncertainty still looms large. I let my hands fall into my lap, fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the silk material of my dress as I fidget with nervous energy. The weight of responsibility feels heavier than ever, and the doubts that plague my mind threaten to overwhelm me.

But I cannot afford to falter now. My people are counting on me, and I will not let them down. With a deep breath, I straighten my spine and steel myself for the challenges that lie ahead.

"Very well," I say, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within. "We will proceed with our plan and do everything in our power to secure aid for our people. Together, we will face whatever obstacles may come our way, and we will emerge victoriously."

I rise from my throne, the weight of my crown a reminder of the burden I bear. But as I look around at the faces of my loyal companions, I know that I am not alone. Together, we will navigate the treacherous waters of intergalactic politics, and we will ensure that the voice of our planet is heard.

As I take a step forward, my eyes meet those of Lady Elara, another trusted advisor who has been silent thus far which usually meant that she was trying to choose her words carefully. She clears her throat before addressing the concerns lingering in the air. "Your Highness, if I may interject, the Queen of Naboo herself, Queen Amidala, is currently only 14 years old. Yet, she is navigating the intricate web of the Senate with remarkable skill and resilience. Age should not be a deterrent; instead, it can be a symbol of strength, showcasing the determination of a young monarch fighting for her people."

Her words bring a spark of inspiration, and I find solace in the thought that age may not be an insurmountable obstacle after all then. I nod in gratitude to Lady Elara and make my way off the throne towards a nearby counter, where a protocol droid stands ready with a refreshing drink. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat, but my mind remains ablaze with the challenges ahead.

Before I can voice my thoughts, the chamber's doors hiss open, and Captain Renner strides in with an air of urgency. He exchanges a quick glance with Lady Seraphina, who steps forward to receive his whispered message. My eyes fixate on the unfolding scene, the unease returning in full force.

Lady Seraphina's expression tightens as she listens to the captain's report. The room falls silent, every gaze focused on her as she turns back towards us. "Your Majesty, there is urgent news. The hyperdrive has malfunctioned due to a cause they haven’t traced yet, and we are forced to make an unscheduled stop for repairs. This delay will set us back several days."

A collective sigh of frustration ripples through the room. My heart sinks at the thought of our already delicate mission facing further setbacks. The weight of responsibility presses down on me, threatening to crush my resolve.

A heavy silence descends upon the room as I take a few moments to contemplate the unforeseen obstacles that now stand in our path. The hum of the starship's engines seems to resonate with the tumultuous thoughts in my mind. I do not meet the gazes of my advisors; instead, I stare into the depths of the swirling liquid in my cup, seeking clarity.

The weight of responsibility presses down on me, threatening to crush my resolve. However, I cannot afford to let the moment linger for too long. I raise my head, meeting the expectant eyes of my loyal companions, and find my voice.

"We cannot afford to wait several days for repairs," I declare, my words cutting through the tense atmosphere. "The urgency of our mission requires a swifter course of action. We will find an alternative starship and proceed to Coruscant without delay."

A murmur of disagreement rises among my advisors. Lord Arion steps forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "Your Majesty, I understand the urgency, but hastily changing our mode of transport may jeopardize the safety of the journey. We must consider the risks and—"

I cut him off, my voice firm. "The risks of delay far outweigh the uncertainties of an alternative starship. We cannot afford to waste time. Lives depend on our success, and we must act decisively."

Lady Seraphina interjects, "Your Majesty, the diplomatic protocols and security measures for a different vessel will take time to arrange. We must ensure a smooth transition to avoid any complications in our journey."

My gaze meets Lady Elara's, searching for support. She hesitates before speaking, "Your Highness, I share the concerns of my fellow advisors. We must proceed cautiously to safeguard the integrity of our mission."

I take a deep breath, absorbing their reservations. The path ahead is fraught with challenges, and I must weigh the consequences of my decision. However, the urgency of our mission fuels my determination.

"Despite the challenges, we cannot afford to be paralyzed by indecision. We will find a suitable alternative swiftly and ensure the necessary precautions are taken. Lives hang in the balance, and we must not falter in our duty," I assert, my voice unwavering.

The room falls into a contemplative silence as my advisors exchange glances, grappling with the gravity of the situation. The fate of my people rests on this decision, and I am prepared to face whatever consequences may arise from my choice.

The air in the chamber thickens with tension as my advisors exchange wary glances, still unconvinced by my resolve. Lady Seraphina speaks up once more, her tone edged with caution. "Your Majesty, we understand the urgency, but such haste may compromise our safety. The risks of an unfamiliar starship—"

Before she can finish her sentence, Lord Arion adds, "And the diplomatic repercussions of changing our mode of transport mid-journey, Your Highness. We must consider—"

I interrupt them, my voice firm and resolute. "Enough. I appreciate your concerns for all of our safety, but the urgency of our mission demands swift action, you all know this. We cannot afford to wait. Lives depend on our success, and why would you all let fear paralyze us."

As they exchange troubled glances, Lady Elara interjects, "Your Majesty, forgive us for questioning, but it is our duty to ensure your safety and the success of this mission. Perhaps if we consider alternative solutions—"

My patience wanes, and I look to Captain Renner, who stands by the doorway, awaiting further instructions. "Captain, what is the nearest suitable starship we can secure for our journey?"

The Captain hesitates for a moment before responding, "Your Majesty, the nearest available starship is en route to Endor for routine maintenance. It is a reliable vessel, and we can make the necessary arrangements for your departure."

Endor. The name echoes in the chamber, and I see a glimmer of uncertainty in the eyes of my advisors. It is a planet with its own history and alliances, and their reservations become more palpable.

"What is the concern?" I ask, my voice now holding a touch of impatience. "Are you not willing to consider Endor as a temporary solution to our predicament?"

Lady Seraphina hesitates before speaking cautiously, "Your Majesty, Endor is known for its unique political landscape. A sudden arrival without proper diplomatic measures could create complications. We must consider the potential fallout."

I stand firm, my gaze piercing through the room. "I understand the concerns, but time is not on our side. We will proceed to Endor, and we will handle any complications as they arise. Our mission cannot be delayed any further."

As the ramp of the starship descends with a soft hiss, I step onto the landing pad, my droid and handmaidens trailing behind me. Flanking me are my loyal royal guards, their presence a comforting reminder of the protection surrounding me. The air is crisp with the scent of unfamiliar flora, and the sounds of the forest echo in the distance.

Before I can take in my surroundings, a question lingers on my lips. "Captain, where exactly have we landed?"

The Captain opens his mouth to respond, but before he can utter a word, a sudden commotion interrupts the air. I turn to see my royal guards, blasters drawn, confronting a small figure standing at the edge of the landing pad.

"Stay where you are!" one of the guards commanded sternly, their weapons trained on the diminutive creature.

Confusion grips me as I approach, my eyes widening in astonishment at the sight before me. The figure is no larger than a child, covered in shaggy fur and adorned with primitive garb. It takes a few hesitant steps backward, its large, expressive eyes wide with fear.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand, my voice tinged with both concern and curiosity.

The Captain steps forward, his expression apologetic. "Your Majesty, it appears we have landed in the territory of the native inhabitants of Endor. This creature is known as an Ewok."

My heart sinks as I realize the gravity of the situation. We have trespassed onto the land of these indigenous beings, and now we must navigate the delicate balance of diplomacy.

"Lower your weapons," I command my guards, their blasters retracting obediently. Turning to the Ewok, I offer a reassuring smile. "We mean you no harm. We come in peace."

The Ewok eyes me warily, its gaze flickering between me and my entourage. Slowly, it takes a cautious step forward, its posture wary but curious.

"We seek only temporary refuge on your planet," I explain gently, hoping to convey our intentions. "We mean no disrespect to your home."

The Ewok studies me for a moment longer before disappearing into the dense foliage of the forest, leaving me to ponder the complexities of our unexpected encounter.

Turning to my protocol droid, CP50, I issue a command, "CP50, act as our translator. We need to establish communication and ensure there are no misunderstandings with the inhabitants of this planet."

The droid acknowledges the order with a nod and a small “Yes, you’re majesty.” As the droid initiates communication protocols, I step off the ramp, my eyes filled with wonder and curiosity at the sights around me. The vibrant colors of the Endorian flora and the unique sounds of the forest create an atmosphere unlike any I have experienced before.

My handmaidens and royal guards follow suit, their expressions a mix of fascination and apprehension. The air is filled with the sweet scent of unfamiliar flowers, and the ambient sounds of the forest lend an ethereal quality to our surroundings.

However, my moment of awe is interrupted by the concerned voices of my advisors. Lord Arion approaches me with a tone of urgency. "Your Majesty, we must remain on the ship. This unexpected detour could pose risks, and we should not stray too far when we don’t even know what is potentially out there."

I turn to face them, a hint of frustration in my voice. "I understand the concerns, but diplomacy begins with understanding. We must establish a rapport with the inhabitants of this planet. CP50 will assist us in navigating any language barriers."

Lady Seraphina adds, "Your Majesty, while diplomacy is crucial, we should proceed with caution. We are still strangers in a foreign land, and unforeseen complications may arise."

I nod in acknowledgment of their concerns but stand firm in my decision. "We will exercise caution, but we cannot afford to ignore the potential allies or obstacles this planet may present. Our mission remains to secure aid for our people, and diplomacy is the key to achieving that goal."

As we venture further into the Endorian landscape, the sounds of the forest growing louder around us, I then look up to see homes…bridges that lead tree to tree.

As I gaze up at the towering trees, marveling at the intricate network of huts and bridges woven among their branches, a sense of awe washes over me. The Ewok village seems to blend seamlessly with the natural beauty of the forest, a testament to the ingenuity and resourcefulness of its inhabitants.

Suddenly, a rustling in the foliage ahead breaks the spell of wonder, and I instinctively tense, my hand drifting towards the hilt of my ceremonial blade. Six Ewoks emerge from the shadows, their wary eyes fixed upon us as they brandish spears with cautious determination.

I exchange a glance with CP50, silently urging the droid to facilitate communication. As the droid begins to translate my words into their native tongue, I step forward, meeting the gaze of the Ewoks with a mixture of respect and reassurance.

"Hello," I say, my voice ringing out with clarity amidst the rustling of leaves. "My name is Queen Korr of Lemono. I come in peace, seeking to establish communication and mutual understanding between our peoples."

The Ewoks regard me with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, their expressions unreadable beneath their furry visages. For a tense moment, silence hangs in the air, broken only by the gentle whisper of the wind through the trees.

Then, one of the Ewoks takes a tentative step forward, its spear lowered ever so slightly. It speaks in a language unfamiliar to my ears, but CP50 swiftly translates its words.

"We welcome you, Queen Korr of Lemono," the Ewok says, its voice tinged with cautious optimism. "But we must ensure the safety of our village. Please, come with us. Our elders will decide your fate."

I nod in understanding, a sense of relief washing over me. This encounter may yet prove to be the first step towards securing the aid my people so desperately need. With a quick stride, I follow the Ewoks into the depths of their forest home, hopeful that diplomacy will prevail in the face of uncertainty.

Led through the intricate treetop pathways, I find myself standing before the Ewok elders, wise and weathered figures adorned in ceremonial garb. Their eyes, ancient and knowing, regard me with a mix of curiosity and caution. As CP50 translates my words, I address the gathering with a respectful bow.

"Esteemed elders of Endor," I begin, my voice carrying the weight of sincerity, "I am Queen Korr of Lemono. I come in peace, seeking your understanding and cooperation. Our ship has encountered technical issues, and we urgently need assistance to reach Coruscant. The fate of my people depends on the aid we seek from the Galactic Senate."

The elders exchange glances, their expressions thoughtful and contemplative. The rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the forest create a backdrop for the delicate negotiation unfolding among the treetops.

One elder, with a crown of leaves upon its head, steps forward and speaks in a melodic language that resonates with the harmony of the forest. CP50 swiftly translates, "We sense the sincerity in your words, Queen Korr of Lemono. But our trust must be earned. Your people must respect the ways of our land, and you must prove that your intentions are genuine."

I nod, acknowledging their terms. "I understand the importance of earning your trust. We are guests in your home, and we will abide by your customs. All we ask is for the opportunity to repair our ship and continue our journey to Coruscant, where we seek assistance for the hardships faced by my people."

The elder nods in response, and a silent exchange among the Ewoks follows. Finally, a consensus seems to be reached, and the elder addresses me again, "You shall be granted the chance to repair your ship, Queen Korr. But know this: the balance of our world is delicate. Respect it, and you will find allies among the Ewoks of Endor."

Gratitude fills my heart as I express my appreciation to the elders. With the promise of cooperation, I am hopeful that we can mend our starship and resume our journey. The forest canopy above seems to whisper its approval, as if the very trees themselves have granted us a chance to prove our intentions and secure the aid my people so desperately need.

As I bow respectfully to the Ewok elders, a soft murmur emanates from behind me, where my advisors confer in hushed tones. I catch snippets of their conversation, an undercurrent of skepticism threading through their words. Ignoring the whispers, I straighten up and turn to face the elders, determination etched on my face.

"I am grateful for your understanding, esteemed elders," I say, addressing them directly. "In our quest to repair our ship swiftly, I must inquire if there is a spare vessel available that we may borrow temporarily. This would expedite our journey to Coruscant and allow us to return your kindness promptly."

The elder, with a nod of consideration, confers with the others in their melodious language. After a brief exchange, they collectively agree, and the elder responds through CP50's translation.

"We have a transport vessel that you may use for your journey, Queen Korr of Lemono," the elder announces. "It is not as advanced as your starship, but it will serve your purpose. We entrust it to you with the understanding that you will respect the balance of the forest and return it once your mission is complete."

Expressing my sincere gratitude, I assure them of our utmost respect for their customs and pledge to return the vessel as promised. The Ewoks, in turn, guide us to their transport vessel, a modest yet sturdy craft nestled within the treetop village.

As my advisors reluctantly follow, their murmurs continue, but I remain focused on the task at hand. The path to Coruscant is still fraught with challenges, but with the borrowed vessel, we should have a renewed sense of purpose and the means to continue our diplomatic journey through the vast reaches of the galaxy.

As I step aboard the vessel graciously lent to us by the Ewoks, a surge of anxiety courses through me. Despite their hospitality, I can't shake the nagging feeling that we are intruding on their world, disrupting the delicate balance of their lives. The weight of responsibility presses down on me, and I can feel the eyes of my people upon me, their hopes and fears resting squarely on my shoulders.

Glancing back at my advisors and diplomats, I am met with a mixture of reluctance and apprehension. Their whispered conversations and doubtful expressions only serve to fuel my frustration. How dare they question the hospitality of our hosts, especially after the kindness they have shown us?

Suppressing a sigh, I take a moment to compose myself, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. With a firm gaze, I addressed them, my voice tinged with disappointment. "It is imperative that we show respect for the customs and traditions of the Ewoks. They have offered us their aid in our time of need, and we must honor their generosity with our gratitude and cooperation."

My words hang heavy in the air, but the tension among my companions remains palpable. As the borrowed vessel glides through the Endorian sky, I turn to my advisors and diplomats, a question lingering on my lips. "Who among you will volunteer to stay behind and assist the Ewoks? We must ensure our presence here does not disrupt their way of life."

A moment of uncomfortable silence fills the air. I watch the faces of my companions, hoping for a willing volunteer to step forward. However, none of them seem eager to accept the responsibility of remaining on Endor.

Lord Arion, ever the voice of caution, steps forward, "Your Majesty, it may not be wise to leave our diplomatic mission in the hands of those unfamiliar with the complexities of intergalactic politics. Perhaps we should all proceed to Coruscant together and—"

I cut him off with a frustrated tone, "The Ewoks have shown us kindness, and we must reciprocate. We cannot take advantage of their generosity without offering something in return. Who among you will step up for this important task?"

A heavy silence lingers, my advisors and diplomats exchanging uneasy glances. When no one volunteers, a sense of frustration builds within me. These individuals, who are meant to assist and advise me, seem unwilling to embrace the responsibilities that come with diplomacy.

In a decisive moment, I point to one of my diplomats, Lady Isolde, a handmaiden Anne-Jane, and a member of the flight crew, Lieutenant Rylan. "You two will stay behind on Endor. Assist the Ewoks in whatever they require. Ensure that our presence here leaves a positive impact, and when our ship is repaired, join us on Coruscant."

They share an exchange at a glance, acknowledging the responsibility thrust upon them. I watch as they walk off of the ship causing me to finally feel some type of ease. The ship begins to hum underneath my feet. It’s risky to leave my trusted people here, but I couldn’t just leave the Ewoks without nothing. I felt eyes on me. My stomach twisting and turning…I need to believe in myself.

—

🏷️ Taglist: @eruannaaa-blog / @creatureoftheunderworldd

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pricklypear1997 · 1 year

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🥰

I just can’t stop drawing Arya and Gendry lol. Btw Arya’s dress is a gift from shireen. I think they’d make really good friends. 😊

Arya’s hairstyle is based off a Bulgarian braided hairstyle btw. I felt like this hairstyle is perfect for her really thick hair. We wear a lot of braids throughout Eastern Europe, and I just love the idea of the north being kinda slavic/East euro.

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liaredrose · 5 months

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THE SNAKE AND THE ROSE

A Dramione FF on AO3

Read it HERE

The Global Wizarding War ended in 1945 with the victory of Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald proclaimed himself the Great President of the whole Europe and the United States of America, territories that became a new country called Orden. A new hierarchical society was established, once that had Worthies at the top, Commoners in the middle and Unworthies at the lowest rank.

In 2001 Draco Malfoy is one of the two possible candidates to succeed as Great President of Orden, but something threatens is climbing to power.

To eliminate the threat and ensure himself the seat he was born to occupy, Draco will have to form an alliance with Hermione Granger, a young Unworthy witch who might be the key to his success.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #fanfic #lovers #draco x hermione #angst #ao3 link #harry potter #au #gellert grindelwald #orwell 1984 #slow romance

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shingekinohyrulewrites · 3 months

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Young & Beautiful

There is a bright green light that flashes across the lake on the opposite dock. You find yourself drawn to it, but are unsure why.

Read on AO3 here

The summer night was still, a soft, cool breeze blowing softly in the air, bringing with it a crisp, clean smell. The water’s surface was calm, small waves lapping lazily against the wooden stilts of the boardwalk. Across the lake, music was playing faintly in the distance, the crooning voice of a singer standing out amongst the other instruments plucking a song about a former love. The green light of the pier flashed, glowing briefly for a second before dimming and going dark, and then starting again. The stars were twinkling in the sky, almost seeming to blend in with the bright lights of the party across the way.

Your toes were dipped in the cool water, relishing in the sensation of the currents slowly moving. Another song began to play, this one slightly more upbeat and danceable. A female singer took over then, her sultry voice singing about a newfound love that had her head spinning. Leaning back on your hands, you tapped your fingers to the beat, humming absently along to it.

The green light flashed again, illuminating the water’s surface before disappearing.

The party across the lake seemed to be in full swing, if the music and bright lights weren’t apparent enough. Given that it was summer, there were parties held there nearly every day. They often began shortly before sundown, when the musicians would tune their instruments and the singers would bellow out some random tune to warm up their vocal chords. As the night progressed, the music got faster, the lights seemed to get brighter, and the stars seemed to shine down until dawn when the parties would usually come to an end.

The moon had begun its descent towards the trees in the distance, and that was your queue to return home. Sighing, you gently pulled your toes out of the water, shaking them off before slipping them back into your shoes. You turned your head back to glance at the familiar green light before quietly making your way back to your home.

Thankfully, the lights in your home were still off. Letting out a sigh of relief, you crept through the garden, making sure not to tread on any branches or leaves as you made your way towards the back entrance. Sliding it open quietly, you snuck up the stairs, passing your parents’ bedroom and slipping back into yours. You let out another sigh, collapsing onto your bed and staring up at the ceiling. Even though the lake was a distance away, you could still hear the music, barely picking up the singer lulling his audience to sleep with a lullaby. Eyes heavy, you closed your eyes and dreamed about lush clouds, warm blankets, and loving embraces.

***

Coming from a rich family had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks.

You had a life of luxury, where anything that you wanted or imagined could be handed to you on a silver platter. You had received the finest education, taking classes with the most expensive tutors who filled your brain with endless amounts of knowledge. Your family had traveled all over the world, and you had memories from Paris, Rome, Johannesburg, and Cuba, among many others. You only wore the finest clothing, always sported the latest accessories, and never had a hair out of place.

But, despite all this, you were bored.

Although you desperately wanted to go to college, your parents forbade it. They insisted that you focus on your homemaking skills, that you were prepared to become a perfect wife and mother. Despite never spending time with a man, your parents were on the search for a husband for you, one that was rich and domineering.

You yearned to just explore the world, to get a college degree in something, anything, that would prove you were capable of being more than just a woman. You had brains, you had the capacity to make some sort of contribution to the world, and yet you felt like you would never have a chance.

Instead, you snuck out of your home when you could, leaving your parents behind with guests while they hosted luxurious tea parties or when they had small soirees with the other wealthy neighbors. Your family’s estate was bordered by a large lake, with the only other residence being across the way. When you had moved in, your family had been informed that the home was vacant, but it wasn’t long after that the first party began.

It was the loud music that had caught your attention. You were going for your usual nighttime stroll, staying close to the treeline to avoid being seen by anybody. Curious, you had crept closer to the lake until you took note of the bright lights of the home across the way. The owner had set up a pier light, and you found comfort in its blinding, green shade. Sometimes, when you needed to get away, you would sit on the pier for hours, getting lost in the music and pretending you were among all the party goers.

Your parents, however, found your mysterious neighbor to be a menace. They lamented their choice of loud music, how the pier light was an annoyance that did no good, and that the constant parties were ruining the value of the land. Whenever they complained you ignored them, instead bringing yourself back to the calm nights on the pier, staring at the stars as you listened to the music.

Little did you know that you would soon encounter the mysterious owner of the home.

#haikyū!!#haikyuu imagines #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama tobio x reader #1920s au #great gatsby au #prohibition au #arranged marriage au #slow burn #slow romance

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insanesanitysparks · 6 months

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Love Comes Tsundere - Chapter 1 The Proposal

Summary: A complicated villain takedown puts Bakugou Katsuki in a cumbersome position with the Hero Safety Commission. To appease the commission, Bakugou reluctantly agrees to enter an arranged marriage with you, the quirkless daughter of a prominent member on the commission. Now you and Katsuki have to figure out how to live and maybe even learn to love someone you don't truly know.

Tags: Minors DNI, Bakugou Katsuki/Female Reader, Bakugou Katsuki, Female Reader, Arranged Marriage, Marriage, Fluff, Steamy Fluff, Spicy Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Gradual Romance, Slow Romance, Eventual Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad At Feelings, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Tsundere Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki is A Good Significant Other, Slow Burn, Not Beta Read, I Do Not Do Chapter Warnings, So Read At Your Own Risk, Add Tags As I Go

Notes: I update faster on my Ao3 account. I like comments, even if they're just constructive criticism. I'm always looking to improve my writing. I am lonely and desperate for attention :p

Chapter 1 - The Proposal

The warm scent of freshly printed paper and the still silence of an empty office made for a boring wait, especially for a pro hero strongly accustomed to action. The drone of professional gray walls, the chill of metal filing cabinets, and the reeking stench of power from a fancy polished desk told the young hero that person who occupied this office was powerful. Powerful, but most likely impotent, using his wealth to make up for where he fell short. On top of that, the office jackass was making the hero wait damn near forever to talk about damn damage control. Inconsiderate bastard.

Finally, the door opened and the overcompensating ass himself walked in, haughty, like he hadn't just made the hero wait for him. "About damn time!" The young hero growled, his piercing red eyes shooting the older man a death glare. "I've been waiting for a whole fucking hour! You and I both know you've got better shit to do than to clean up my mess, so why the hell did it take you so fucking long?"

"My apologies, young Bakugou," The drawl of the man's false regret sent a cold, irritating shiver down Bakugou's spine. His eye twitched as the man casually moved past him to sit at his desk, "it is quite a mess out there though, the clean up is going to be a pain."

"Tell me something I don't already fucking know!" Bakugou huffed, running a hand through his spikey, blonde locks. "Didn't really have a whole lot of options out there though. If it had been anyone else responding to that situation then it would have been a lot worse! I don't even know why the hell you commission office bastards are getting so worked up over it anyway!"

"Yes, well, us 'office bastards' aren't just looking at lives saved and casualties. There's a lot more that happens in these walls than I think you give us credit for." The man sighed and pulled a folder from the work bag he'd brought with him and laid it on the desk. "Still, it is quite an unfortunate situation. No one is blaming you of course, you were off-duty and you were quite ill-prepared for dealing with the chaos; however, the commission still deems it reasonable to revoke your hero license for the time being. Just while they launch their investigation into the events. Then, provided they don't find anything suspicious, your license will be renewed and you'll be back to doing hero work!"

Bakugou bristled at the man insulting his preparedness. He was always fucking prepared! It wasn't his fault the civilians made the situation worse! He'd done everything he logically could do given the situation! "So you're suspending my license?" The blond hero hissed through gritted teeth. It would be a miracle if he didn't assault this pretentious asshole before he left!

"Well, we don't really have any other options here..." The man hummed and tapped his fingers on the desk, stilling before he spoke again, "Unless...maybe we could help each other?" The satisfaction dripping from the man's tone disgusted Bakugou and the gaze in the man's eyes was that of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run. Bakugou's blood ran cold and he just knew that he was going to kill this man! Hell, even the damn nerd's mumbling ass was more tolerable than this bastard!

Bakugou met the man's hungry eyes with a hardened glare of his own before emitting an exasperated sigh and turning his head away from the bastard. "Of course! And I assume there's a catch to this? What the hell do you want me to do? I don't do illegal shit if that's what you're wanting."

"Oh, of course not!" A smug smile plastered the bastard's face making Bakugou's skin crawl. "Now, I've noticed that throughout your entire high school and rookie hero career, you've never attended any events or award ceremonies with a pretty little lady swooning on your shoulder. I always supposed that you could be waiting for the right little lady, though with you I assume it's more likely that you don't consider a little arm candy to be worth the time. Time that could be spent furthering your career. Unless...maybe men run more your type? You always looked good with that Red Riot fellow, wasn't he in your-"

"Is there a point to all this? Or do you just like hearing yourself talk?" Bakugou interrupted when the bastard suggested a sexual relationship with Eijirou. Ever since the first year sports festival, Bakugou had seen the dumbass redhead as a brother. "Let's go charging into battle together!" Eijirou had so boldly exclaimed, refusing to let Bakugou turn him down. Or when the red-haired idiot fearlessly came to rescue him from the League. Charging into battle together... Bakugou couldn't imagine anyone else he'd want to have his back, as an ally and a friend, not a fucking oversexualized, fan-paired fucking couple!

"I'm just curious if you're interested in girls!" The bastard held his hands up in mock surrender, "Or do you simply lack the drive and therefore avoid them?"

Bakugou's blood was already boiling, and his face was undoubtedly red with rage. Now, he was seconds away from going nuclear with his quirk. Lack the drive? Lack the drive! Unlike your impotent ass I don't need a bitch to help me get off! You think just because I'm not running around chasing ass like a horny fucking dog in heat that I'm some sort of impotent freak like you! Cocky, fucking bastard! Implying that I should screw my best friend or chase pussy for arm candy! Little sparks danced across his hands, the threat and promise of violence growing ever closer. "Get. To. The. Fucking. Point." The blond growled. He didn't have time for this bullshit!

"Yes, I suppose I am making this longer than it needs to be." The man nodded as though they were having a normal conversation, not one where he could die or the young hero could lose his license. "I want you to marry my daughter, or more specifically, my friend's daughter. You see, she's quirkless and quite a burden to take care of. So clumsy and needy, helpless really. It's hard for me to get much work done with her around. My colleagues and I aren't thrilled about having to clean up your mess, but if you would be kind enough to take her off my hands for me then my team and I will make sure that everything is resolved before the sun sets this evening. What do you say?"

"The hell?" Bakugou blinked back his surprise. He wanted him to what? "You want me to marry...wait, if she's your friend's daughter why the hell do you want me to marry her?"

"Her father passed away, left her in my care. She doesn't know, of course, he died when she was young and I've looked after her ever since. But she's a growing woman, a lot harder to take care of than a child. Marrying her off to a powerful, young hero like you seems like the ideal scenario. You'll be strong enough to protect her without struggling like me." The bastard opened the file in front of him and slid a photo across his desk to the blond. A picture of the girl in question.

Bakugou stared at the young woman in the photo. She wasn't terrible looking...plain skin, simple hair framing a shy face based on the way she cast her eyes downward... She didn't look like a bitch, anyone who would intentionally cause a lot of trouble. If anything, she kind of looked like a ditsy nerd, like damn Deku! He glanced back at her guardian, the bastard pretending to be her father. If he'd raised her for as long as she could remember, would she be like him? Even if she didn't look like him? He considered his options, not thrilled at the idea of marrying a complete stranger. But did he have any other option? If he lost his license, even for a little bit, it would put him behind... It would definitely put a dent in his popularity, a dent he couldn't afford with Shoto and Deku competing with him for the number one spot. They almost always matched in arrests, popularity, and minimized damage. They'd been rotating the number one spot between the three of them since they graduated from Yuuei! Something that would change if Bakugou lost his license. They'd push him down to the third spot and he'd be forever stuck there with the damn half-n-half bastard and the shitty nerd taking the top two spots! "I lose my hero license if I don't marry her, correct?"

"Well, not to sound like I'm blackmailing you or anything of that nature, but yes. If you refuse to marry her, my team won't be so cooperative and you're license will be revoked while we investigate. Add to that the dip your popularity will take and your hero career will fall to the dust."

Bakugou protested, voice straining in his failing efforts not to continue yelling as he fought against his apparent fate. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"True, but the public won't see it that way and the investigation, well, we all know that the investigations aren't usually favorable toward the heroes..." The man pointed out smugly, clearly not intimidated by the blond's explosive personality. " If it helps, think of it this way-you don't necessarily have to love her, just marry her for the image. Pro-hero Dynamight marries a poor, defenseless quirkless woman! What an amazing hero he is!"

"It's Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!" Bakugou huffed, though with less gusto than before.

"Right, apologies. Anyway, if she doesn't interest you, you don't have to fall in love with her or fuck her...just make her an overpaid maid with benefits and get yourself a little honey to keep on the side. Ignore her for all I care! Just get the damn bitch off my hands."

A long moment of silence passed before Bakugou spoke again, his head spinning. He hated how nonchalant the bastard was about implying infidelity, about marrying a girl just to gain popularity. It certainly didn't feel right, but if he wanted to hold onto the number one hero spot for more than one year, he couldn't afford to lose his hero license. Even if only for a short while! The blond lowered his head in defeat, hands folded in front of him to keep himself from just exploding the bastard and temporarily solving the problem, "When do we get married?"

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nerdestiwrites · 1 month

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call to the devil and the devil will come (chapter two)

Lucifer hadn’t planned on sleeping that night. He intended to get out of bed after he had been lying there for a few moments, but he never did. Instead that drunken sleep had found him, taking him into unconsciousness. It was the sleep that would leave him more exhausted when he woke in the morning, his heart racing faster inside his chest than it normally would have been. Luckily, even with the spiked heart rate, the sleep had been dreamless which was better than the alternatives in his mind.

When he woke, he felt himself reach consciousness, and he groaned loudly. His head pounded and throbbed with pain, and his eyes did not want to open despite being awake. He turned in the bed, feeling the sheets get tangled further around his body. That alone had let him know he had a rather restless night of sleep. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep now, but he could now feel his quickened heart rate and now he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep.

He reached and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to shield his eyes from the sunlight beaming through windows from behind the curtains. He really should’ve just had blackout curtains like he had done in his office back at the mansion. Even if that meant he had a hard time knowing the exact time while inside the office, he could’ve been in there for days or weeks and not known, it was easier than facing the fact that time was passing at times. Especially when the sunlight seemed to attack the ever-growing and pounding headache.

The king heard a knock on his door and he took a deep breath in. He wasn’t sure who could be up at the early hour and not be suffering the same consequences as he was, the others all had drunk much more than he did as he didn’t start until later in the evening. The knock came again and he sat up, rubbed his face, winced as the bright sun came through the cracks of the curtains, and sighed. A wave of his hand as he stood and he was refreshed and dressed in a new white suit and jacket. No one had to be the wiser he was currently dealing with a raging hangover.

Lucifer crossed the room and opened the door. An immediate frown came across his face as he saw the Radio demon standing on the other side in the hallway, a smile across his face as he leaned down so that he was face to face with the King, which only annoyed Lucifer more. “Good morning!” Alastor said enthusiastically loud, earning a grumble and wince from the King.

“What is so important you came to get me this early in the morning?” The fallen angel asked as he looked at the ever-smiling demon.

Alastor hummed, the radio frequencies filling the air as he sat in silence for a few moments before answering, “Why it’s two in the afternoon! Charlotte was getting quite concerned! I offered graciously to come see if you were awake yet!”

That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be two in the afternoon, he couldn’t have slept in that much. Lucifer reached into his pockets and grabbed out his phone, nearly dropping it in the process. He huffed as he turned the device on, noticing firstly that it was nearly dead. He really should’ve plugged the damned electronic in before he passed out so he wouldn’t have to now. Then he checked the time, and there it was, ten minutes past two in the afternoon.

The alcohol had really fucked with him more than he thought it did, or maybe it was all the sleep he had purposely avoided finally catching up when he couldn’t fight it any longer. Suddenly the demon took a step into Lucifer’s room and he took a step back in turn, eyes narrowed at the sudden intrusion into his privacy. “What are you doing? I didn’t tell you that you could come in.”

“You never told me I couldn’t.” The demon said simply and stood straight once more, standing tall. It was on purpose, the fallen angel knew it and hated it. “Do you remember anything from last night, sire?”

That question sent Lucifer spiraling in his mind. He remembered bits and pieces of the night prior, but not everything. He couldn’t remember everything even on a good day. So drinking did nothing to help or improve the fallen angels’ memory and actively worked against it.

The lack of an answer was an answer in of itself and one that Alastor accepted immediately. He made an interesting hum and took a step back, once again standing outside of the devils' room. “Thank you for the valuable information you’ve given me! Charlie is downstairs, I shall let her know that you did not pass in the night.”

Before the king could respond, the Radio demon disappeared into the shadows. A low growl escaped him as he pulled at his face before making himself appear down in the parlor. He was awake, Charlie was worried about him, he needed to tell her that he was fine.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a corkboard, with red string attached to pictures attached to articles. Vaggie sat on a chair backward, head resting on her arms that were atop the headrest. She had a look of concern and love for his daughter and was listening intently to all of her ramblings about the next steps they needed to take to make sure the hotel was a success. There were two sections, one for if Heaven agreed and helped, and the second if Heaven was against the idea.

Lucifer studied the board, standing off to the side, behind Vaggie and Charlie so the two didn’t notice he had arrived. He stood there in silence, letting his daughter's voice, chipper, excited, and full of determination fill the air. She was so confident, so sure of herself and that the hotel was going to succeed, that the devil himself started to believe it as well. If anyone could do it, it could be Charlie, and all they needed was to get Heaven on board with the idea. They needed someone in Heaven to actually sit down and listen to what Charlie had to say.

Charlie turned to face Vaggie, and a pleasant surprised look came across her face at the sight of Lucifer. She smiled immediately and rushed over, pulling him into a tight hug. “Dad! You’re awake! I was worried that you left!”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye! And as I said before, I have no intentions of leaving you again, CharChar.” He promised as he hugged back just as tight, closing his eyes momentarily as his head throbbed from the tightness of the hug. Charlie released him and took a few steps back, bouncing a few times on the heels of her feet as she returned to the large board.

“As I was telling Vaggie, to be able to get sinners to want to come and actively participate in the hotel, to have a chance at redemption, we need to get proof that it can happen. And I know it can. I just… I need another chance with Heaven.” As she said this she looked back at him and he knew what that look meant. She was asking without saying if he could try and set up another meeting.

That thought alone scared him. He had struggled the first time she had asked for that. It was different when Heaven contacted him, that was expected, that was routine. For it to be the other way around, for Lucifer to be the one to reach out to Heaven, set something up with Heaven, that was different. He knew that they all still saw him as the villain, as the one who caused the grief and anguish in the world, that he let Evil into the world. He hadn’t done it on purpose, that wasn’t his intention in the slightest, but no matter how many times he tried to argue, to defend himself, he was ignored and blamed. So he stopped trying and allowed them to paint him as the villain.

Her face, his little girls’ face, asking, begging, pleading for his help, for him to reach out, to try and make the connection so that they could get things rolling again. He knew that she held out hope that now Adam was out of the picture, that Heaven would be more willing to see things her way. He was terrified if he reached out, they’d want to hold the hotel accountable for the death of the first man. An eye for an eye was Heavens’ motto, a sense of justice that never made sense to the Devil but was what he had to live with every day since being thrown out of Heaven.

All Lucifer wanted was to give Charlie everything he could, to prove himself, to apologize for everything he had missed out on, for having isolated himself for years. He wanted to do better. He had to do better. He would be better. And that meant he’d call up Heaven and demand another meeting, threaten them if he had to if they first refused. Anything for his little girl.

So he let a tired smile creep onto his face as he nodded once and just that action was enough to send the princess squealing in excitement and a plethora of thank yous pouring out of her. Another tight squeeze of a hug and then Charlie was back at the board. Her fingers were quick to grab onto different items, stringing new pictures, and new articles up, taking some down, and rearranging others.

The fallen angel waved to Vaggie and made his quiet exit from the parlor into the kitchen. He needed something in his stomach, nothing too heavy but something. Perhaps he’d make himself some toast or find some fruit to eat in the fridge, though the last time he had opened the fridge door he had come face to face with a rather unpleasant sight due to the Radio demons’ unnatural tastes.

He searched through the cabinets first, a safer choice to find something edible without the chance of immediately losing his little appetite due to an unwanted surprise. He let his fingers tap along the counter, missing the feeling of his cane within his hand, he needed to find where he had let it disappear, it certainly couldn’t have gone far. Canned foods, canned fruit, canned meat, nothing spiking this interest, a forgotten protein bar that looked like it had better days, and half a loaf of bread, though by the looks of it, had been sitting in the back of the cabinet for some time.

The entire kitchen needed a rework, new groceries, maybe new rules on what was allowed inside the communal fridge as well as a fresh set of dishware. A sigh escaped his lips as he closed the cabinets, turned, and blinked twice at the sight of the Radio demon standing behind him. Something that looked close to disappointment crossed Alastors eyes momentarily before it was replaced by an amused smile. “You certainly aren’t the jumpy type, are you?”

Lucifer leaned against the counter as he looked at Alastor, an unamused frown paralleling the demon’s face. “I’m the oldest being in Hell, if I was still jumpy after being here this time I don’t think I’d be called King of Hell. Also, Charlie had a stretch of time in her childhood where she desperately tried to scare me any chance she got, so someone sneaking up on me isn’t going to make me jump.”

“I suppose if that’s all you have to show for being King, you might as well gloat about it more.” Alastors voice seemed like it was coming from all around the devil, the radio frequencies fluctuating with every other word that had been spoken.

Lucifer growled at the backhanded compliment and he stood straighter, off of the counter. “That is not all-” Before he could even finish the sentence, the end of a cane was pressed into his chest, pushing him back against the counter. His eyes looked down at the cane and went up, noticing the apple bobble in the hand of the demon. Another growl escaped him. “So you stole my cane?”

Alastors smile grew at the accusation. “Why of course not! I am simply returning it to the rightful owner, after all, you had been so careless last night with it, letting it drop and roll wherever. Left it on the floor.” He laughed.

The King reached forward to attempt and grab the cane, only for the demon to pull it away, leaning against it, having to lean forward quite a bit just to be able to. “Such a short cane, though I suppose fits your needs quite well!”

A groan escaped his lips and he attempted again to grab his cane away. Once more, it was pulled out of reach, and Alastor spun it around a few times, inspecting the apple bobble closely. A small laugh escaped the demon as he turned the cane around a few times, “How is that hangover treating you, Your Majesty?”

The question was asked and then followed by a high-pitched frequency causing the devil to groan in pain, covering his ears with a dangerous glare. The anger bubbled up inside his chest and he felt as his horns began to extend out of the top of his head. Then, suddenly and without warning, the cane was handed straight to Lucifer, and a look of boredom crossed the demons’ face. Lucifer blinked a few times as he took the cane, holding onto it protectively, eyes narrowed at the sudden release.

“Usually, when an item is returned, the polite thing to do would be to say ‘thank you’.” The static picked up in Alastors voice at his words and he gave a small shrug. Then he took a step back away, hands clasping behind his back as he did so, a smug smile on his face ever-growing, ever-present.

Lucifer glared back in response to the Radio demon as he used the cane as intended, leaning against it easily since it was his. He huffed once, twice, then turned away from the demon, the moment of hunger having left him now. He’d try again in a few hours, or perhaps in the morning once the hangover was gone. Maybe he’d even make pancakes for Charlie and himself and her girlfriend.

As the king left the kitchen, he could feel the eyes of the demon following him. He shuddered once he was out of view and rubbed his hand over his face once with a deep sigh. Every moment he had with the demon was an exhausting one and he wasn’t entirely sure how much longer he could last. Lucifer knew how much Charlie cared for Alastor, though he himself couldn’t understand why. She cared nonetheless, and so he wouldn’t be the one to cause the issues. However, if he needed to solve any of the issues, he would gladly jump at the chance to take the Radio demon down a couple of notches, or even out of the game completely if the option ever became available.

The pounding in his head didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon, though thankfully it seemed to have dulled down quite a bit, even despite Alastors attempt to cause him pain from the loud high high-pitched noise. He was tempted to return back to his room, cane in hand this time, though he wasn’t sure he’d get any sleep now that the drunkenness had worn off. Even just to be on the solace of isolation while riding out the last of the hangover was better than the chance of having to face the Radio demon for a third time that day.

“Dad!” Charlies' voice called out from the parlor, and Lucifer smiled immediately, turning and heading back towards where his daughter had called out to him from. Whatever she needed from him would come first, and then he’d return back to his room because he was going to do better.

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atkrnina · 1 year

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memento mori (5)

I had so much fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :) thanks to all people who left comments and kudos on my work so far, I am really glad someone is enjoying my work :) I am very excited to write where this is going with these two...

some Na'vi words I utilized in this chapter:

utral aymokriya - tree of voices "kehe! ftang nga!" - "no! stop that!" palulukan makto - rider of the Thanator (Neytiri) palulukan - Thanator atokirina - seeds of the tree of souls "aungia lolu, aungia ta Eywa" - "there has been a sign, there was a sign from Eywa"

(3000 words)

-----

Tiya recovered quickly, even better for Quaritch. she was to accompany his squad back into the forest. so they could learn. her ears were flattened down, as she tried to drown out the noise of their monstrous machine that they pushed her in. she thought this machine was too loud to safely navigate the skies of her home, an ikran was far safer and better for scouting. as well as in any other aspect. thinking about her ikran made her sad.

Zaela and her would join the assaults on the sky peoples machines, scouting from above, or shooting the flying machines out of the sky. her ikran must miss her, ever since Tiya hadn't returned that night after they had rescued the children. Tiya surely missed her, the freedom of flying through the sky, past the mountains. not being restrained, threatened or in pain.

the machine loudly conversed the skies of her home, and Tiya found herself shifting in her seat to gain a view to the outside. the wind blew in her face, the beads in her hair hit Quaritch in the face, when he grabbed her arm to pull the Na'vi back in her seat.

they were flying to the forest, to the place they had picked her up. the old battlefield.

"let me be absolutely clear, you try anything and we'll shoot you,"

the alien - Miles - told her, as she landed back in he uncomfortable seat, her back hitting the cold material harshly. the Na'vi looked at him, before slightly nodding at his threat. he wasn't all bad, but the others surrounding him were. the humans back in their weird housing, who had tied her to that awful thing. Tiya still had bad dreams from that incident. she wished to visit utral aymokriya, to see her older brother. to ask him for his support. Tsu'tey wouldn't have let this happen, no doubt in her mind.

the machine neared the forest ground, and she saw the plants flatten to the ground from the airstream, as the few animals fled, clearly disturbed by the sounds of the machine. the aliens lowered themselves to the ground with ropes, which Tiya was no stranger to. it was just a litte harder with restraints around her hands. this was the reason for her only utilising the rope for a short amount of time, before she let go of it and let herself fall to the forest ground, landing in a crouched position.

Tiya slowly rose back up, straightening herself out as she looked defiantly at the aliens.

"quite the show,"

she stared at Miles.

"It doesn't work with my hands like this," her answer came as a hiss, as she held her bound, blue wrists before him.

"then you have to learn," he said mockingly, causing the other aliens to laugh. Tiya stared at them, how they held their cold weapons against their oddly dressed bodies.

Quaritch watched her ears, how they flattened down, and the way her tail whipped. it wasn't his goal to anger her, but it was always so easy.

"you have to learn! you are aliens, I am Na'vi!"

Tiya snapped, taking a step toward him.

"I know, I know, I was just joking, sweetheart - here you go," when he pulled his knife, she stepped back again, but not before his alien hand grabbed her forearm and cut through the orange restraints.

she hissed quietly, rubbing her sore wrists. he was so odd, always trying to make her angry, yet, he wasn't so bad.

"come on now," he then commanded his other aliens, while keeping Tiya at the front with him. he didn't trust her enough, and knew she would test out some shit sooner or later while they were out here.

with every step he and his squad took, Tiya clenched her jaw firmer. they were so loud, even children moved quieter than they did. at this rate, the entire forest would soon know that they were here. maybe someone would come to safe her then. it bothered her so much, the way they stomped through the forest, breaking the delicate plants with the things at their feet, disturbing the wild life.

"for god's sake, can you stop?!" an annoyed alien barked from behind her, grabbing her tail.

"kehe! ftang nga!" she snapped, slapping his hand away from her tail as she whirled around.

"what's the matter with you two?" Quaritch huffed, pulling Tiya away from Wainfleet, who stared at the man like he had just insulted her entire bloodline.

"no touching!" she snarled at Lyle.

"then stop whipping your damn tail into my face!"

Tiya scoffed dismissively.

"he's right, boss, she keeps agitating us,"

Quaritch raised his eyebrows.

"how old are you? four? get it together! what can you expect from someone like her?"

he replied, before looking at Tiya.

"you - tell me why you're so on edge,"

her ears flicked in confusion. on edge.

"what?"

"why are you so nervous? your tail!"

he grabbed her roughly by her braid, pulling her closer. she whined, clawing at the hand that held her queue.

"you move loud - bad," Tiya hissed.

his grip loosened from her tail.

"that is why you're here, to teach!"

"you cannot learn," she hissed stubbornly, backing away when he reached for her braid again, only to bump against another alien who threw her back towards him.

"not like this, you move too loud with these things - you move like sky people, not like us,"

Tiya explained quickly, trying to avoid the pain of having his hands pulling at her queue again, as she gestured at his feet, and curled her lips.

"then how do Na'vi move?"

"different,"

"you heard the woman, off with the shoes,"

he stepped out of the boots and pulled his pant leg up, so did his squad, uttering in dissatisfaction.

Tiya looked around, trying to find a way out. there had to be.

"come on now, let's walk,"

she hissed when he pushed her forward. the alien watched her, she knew. he would know if she tried to run, and he would shoot. he had done it once already.

Quaritch watched how she moved. gracefully and so different than they did. it was clear that she knew this forest. she was born here, raised here. that was how she walked. confident.

they led her to a place she knew. the old battlefield. the barracks, was how Jake called it. the place felt eerie. she didn't like it. never did. the only good thing was how Neytiri had defeated one of the demons here.

palulukan makto.

Tiya admired her, she wanted to be like her. she was her mentor, when Tsu'tey couldn't be. Tiya had been on the right path to become a warrior like Neytiri, until the aliens had taken her. they had brought her with their eldest son, to rescue their children. maybe one day, she would become Neteyams mate. though she was a little older than him. Tiya knew that Mo'at liked the idea, so did Neytiri, but she didn't.Tiya wanted to chose her own mate.

most importantly, she wanted to be free.

"again, colonel?" one alien asked.

"yes, take a good look at the place. I will care for our prisoner,"

they stopped where arrows stuck out of a sky people machine. Tiya saw the body in it, her tail moving nervously.

"do you know who this is?"

"a demon," she snarled.

the alien grabbed her braid roughly, causing her to whine.

"this is me"

he growled in her ear. Tiya stared widely at him, then at the wound she'd given him when they had first captured her.

"I am back for Jake Sully, you will help me fulfill the mission,"

"no, demon, I will kill you again,"

she hissed, struggling in his grip. how could he possibly be back? this was not Eywa's doing, so whose was it? the sky people's? it frightened her, how Neytiri had killed him and he had still come back.

"I like you, you have spirit,"

whenever she revealed her fangs, she reminded him of an animal. a cat, a tiger maybe, definitely something feline.

Tiya was an animal, like the woman who had killed him. Quaritch could not forget that, even when she had her peaceful moments.

a loud roar shook them, causing his hands on her queue to loosen as he stared at the animal that came crashing out of the woods. Tiya gasped, her mouth opened slightly and her ears moving nervously.

palulukan.

shouting erupted, their loud weapons were aimed at the animal, only making it even more angry. Tiya didn't think twice, she fled. the animal had come for the intruders, it was her chance. the best one she had gotten so far.

Miles cursed and hissed, reaching for his rifle. but the beast was fast, its skin impenetrable by his bullets. his squad was scattered, some in the old barrack, some before it. it was chaotic.

"retreat!" he yelled, realizing the rifles were not going to help them with the Thanator, as he sprinted into the forest, going the same direction Tiya had ran off in. the beast was unbelievably fast, he didn't know the territory, and they had nothing. he could hear the monster growling behind him, he heard how it trampled over the forest ground.

the Na'vi had ran off. their only way to Jake.

Tiya climbed a tree, hiding in the greenery surrounding her. she heard the palulukan attack the aliens. she heard them fight, and then how they retreated into the forest. spreading out like startled pa'li. her heart was racing beneath her blue skin, when she laid her hand on her chest, while the other one remained on the tree she had pressed herself against.

she shut her eyes, when she heard footsteps beneath her. Miles, the alien who had captured her! lost, like a child. helpless, because his alien weapons were of no use against a palulukan. Tiya knew he didn't know enough about the forest, about the animals to escape. the beast would get him. his spirit would just drift away, and his body refused by the people and the forest.

it filled her with less satisfaction than she had anticipated.

Tiya followed his movement, pinning her ears down. she did not want to see how he died, but she also didn't want to help him. this was the way, how Eywa restored the balance. from the corners of her eyes she saw a glowing seed slowly sink down, towards his direction. she was stiff, when another one landed on her forearm.

"atokirina,"

no, it couldn't be?

Eywa wanted her to go back. she had sent her a sign. the almighty mother always knew. she kept the balance of life.

now it was on Tiya to help him, even if she didn't want to. she heard the animal approach him, and saw his weapon pointed at it. if he was to shoot, he'd surely be eaten. the palulukan was angry, and hungry. most likely he had lost his territory in the night of the sky people's return, like many other animals.

Tiya jumped from branch to branch, her tail keeping her balanced until she jumped down besides him.

"run, alien!"

she yelled, pushing him roughly into the woods. Tiya felt the animal's movement behind her. he was close, too close. even with her bow she stood no chance against a palulukan. no one really did.

Quaritch briefly caught a glimpse of her slender body, before she pushed him into the woods, keeping one hand on his back, as they ran through the forest. he had been certain these would be his last moments, but he had planned to take the Thanator with him. now Tiya had a different plan for them.

"faster!"

she hissed, almost feeling the animals breath on her back, as it hunted them relentlessly.

"jump on the branch there!" Tiya yelled, when they approached the cliff above the river. a few low hanging branches were a good opportunity to climb on the tree, and from there on further up and move back into the forest above ground.

at least he wasn't entirely helpless in that aspect, his avatar body jumping on the branch without greater issue and climbing further up. the fabric of his pants tore when they got stuck on small, sharp pieces of the wood, his vest was little help, but he managed.

Tiya followed him, until they were high enough above the ground, watching as the palulukan clawed frustratedly at the large tree. Quaritch was impressed by how closely intertwined the tree branches were, it was like a second level above ground. sure it was, it was how Tiya had killed two of his men, by hiding up here. the Na'vi stared at him with her big, yellow eyes, her tail moving from left to right.

"I told you I could learn,"

"you climb like a baby, alien,"

Tiya answered harshly.

"is everyone okay?" he used his communication device, while Tiya looked around, her hands brushing over the wood of the tree, as she quietly thanked the great mother for getting out alive.

"the name is Miles, by the way," Quaritch said, leaning against the thick tree trunk, looking down at the holes on the sides of his cargo pants.

"I know. you climb like a baby, Miles. use your tail for balance,"

her hands reached for his tail, pulling it slightly.

"your clothes, they are odd, no good for climbing," Tiya judged, now brushing over her own loincloth. it might have been in need of washing, but it was still far more practical than whatever the aliens wore.

"'s that why you wear none?" he retorted mockingly, looking down at her traditional Na'vi clothing. what she wore around her chest couldn't even be considered clothing, more like a large necklace that she seemed to put a whole lot of trust in, to keep her covered up. However, he highly doubted that Na'vi saw their bodies the same way humans did, if so, they wouldn't walk around like this.

Tiya moved her tail in a dismissive manner, and jumped on a tree branch besides them.

"you're still my prisoner," he hissed, trying to grab her.

"your people are dead or wounded, you don't know this forest. I am not a prisoner,"

she hissed back at him.

"get back -"

when he reached for her, she lunged forwards to jump at him, aiming to throw the unthankful alien down the tree.

"go away!"

Tiya snarled, as one last warning. his name sounded different with her accent. quite beautiful, given no one ever called him that.

"don't make me shoot you again," Quaritch said, reaching for his remaining weapon.

but to his surprise her eyes had left his, staring up, somewhere in the air. like she was in trance or something. with her mouth slightly agape and her ears pinned forwards, she stood still as a statue.

"atokirina," Tiya whispered, watching the seed sink between them slowly.

"now what the hell is that?" Quaritch scoffed, reaching for whatever flying insect this was, earning quite an intense reaction from Tiya.

"kehe! atokirina!"

she grabbed his hand, leaving whatever thing that was to slowly land on her hand that held his. he saw her ears move slightly, her yellow eyes widened in awe. it must have been one of these odd Na'vi customs or something.

"aungia lolu, aungia ta Eywa,"

Tiya did not let go of his hand, until the thing flew away, as slowly as it had landed. Quaritch worried he might have contracted some illness from this, he still had no idea what this was all about.

"speak English," he huffed at her, and to his surprise, she moved back towards him. her entire body language suddenly a lot less hostile than before.

"Colonel?" Quaritch recognized Lyle speaking in his headset.

"status, Lyle,"

"three injured, two severely, no casualties as far as I can see, but we are - hopelessly lost,"

he sighed, and Tiya saw his distress from the way his tail moved.

"I have the prisoner at least, stay together and move to an open spot, try to climb the trees,"

his command came, as Tiya glanced back up in the sky, remaining besides him, even though she had the chance to flee. no, Eywa had sent a sign, twice.

"understood, boss. we have already sent an SOS to the base, but I am not sure it went through," Lyle explained.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up to get out of here before nightfall, do you have any equipment at all?"

"negative, boss, and that thing - could very well return,"

Quaritch looked at Tiya. surely she knew her way around and could have an idea to find the others. the least she could do was teach him.

"stay safe, climb the trees if necessary, I will work something out,"

"understood, boss,"

his ears were pinned down, Tiya could tell he was upset. she would, too, if her people were lost in a place they didn't know. even though she hated the aliens, she felt bad. even Eywa had pity with them. him, at least.

"where is everyone?" she asked carefully, looking curiously at him. her now so gentle voice was a nice contrast to their fighting that had been going on for the entire trip. he had barely processed that the Na'vi had actually saved his life. technically, she had paid her debt.

"I don't know, some are injured badly. they will need medical attention,"

Tiya recognized the firmness in his voice, like an Olo'eyktan speaking about his warriors. she tilted her head to the side, hesitating to answer.

"I can fly, look for them and bring you there,"

she suggested hesitantly.

he met her gaze, for once they didn't fight. in the forest she looked a lot more like she belonged. her blue skin not as pale, and her ears moving attentively. it was where she belonged, was it where he belonged? Tiya was not bad, she was not like other Na'vi. she had rescued him, when she could have just ran off. now she stood here, too. offering to help him find his people, after all they had done to her.

"fly?"

"my ikran, Zaela,"

right. the banshees. that was actually not a bad idea.

"why are you helping me? you threatened to kill me barely an hour ago, confused little thing, aren't you?"

his hand wrapped around her neck. not firm, but uncomfortable enough. Tiya didn't even flinch, her eyes remained on his face. there was no fear, not even hatred.

"Eywa wants me to teach you,"

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qvnthesia · 9 months

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let go, love. i'll catch you.

A dark force grapples 1928 New York City. When British magizoologist Henrik Mikaelson's case of fantastical magical creatures lets loose his - well, his darling children from all around the world - he finds an auror, a Legilimens and an aspiring baker to help him round them up before… well, let's just say that getting into trouble isn't really the nicest of ideas when the threat of wizard extremist Gellert Grindelwald hovers over the wizarding world.

A retelling of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them for Day 08 of AU-gust: Fantastic Creatures.

read here

#elena gilbert #henrik mikaelson #jackson kenner #tatia petrova #the originals #the vampire diaries #wizarding world #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #au gust 2023 #mystic squad #qvnthesia #qvnthesia's fics #slow romance #fluff #a bit crack

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rottencake06 · 2 years

Photo

hey! here is my art for the @kaishinbigbang It would make me very happy if you check out the fic that @alleymichaelis wrote for this piece.

Read it here

We really put a lot of effort creating this collaboration so we would be very grateful if you read it.

Also, don't forget to check the collection in Ao3 to see the other works.

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justtluffythings · 29 days

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HOME: Book 6 - CHAPTER EIGHT

MASTERLIST

“This is the twelfth time, Ronnie. Twelfth.”

Veronica chuckled as she and Charlie turned the corner and made their way through the Courtyard. They were on their way to the Quidditch Pitch for the first game of the season, which would see Ravenclaw playing Hufflepuff.

“Yeah, but you know Percy, Charlie. He will come complaining to you if they so much as breathe in a way he doesn’t like. The twins could be doing absolutely nothing, but he’ll manage to find something to complain about.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows and nodded knowingly. “I know. But twelve times, I mean come on. And that’s just this week. I really don’t know how much more I can take.”

Veronica smiled as she shook her head. “I’ll talk to him.”

Charlie pulled her into his side and beamed. “Thanks, Ronnie! You’re the best.”

***

As Veronica stood in the tent and watched her team get ready for the game, she felt her chest tighten and the anxiety she had been feeling since the start of the year had come back tenfold. Quietly, she slipped out of the changing room tent and breathed in the fresh air as she paced back and forth, trying hard not to think about everything that could go wrong during the game.

“Oh no, I know that look. You’re overthinking again… as usual.”

Veronica had her back to the stranger, but she didn’t need to see them to know who they were. She knew that voice like the back of her hand. Spinning around quickly, she ran and jumped into Reggie’s arms, hugging him tightly. “You came! I can’t believe you’re actually here!”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world, V.”

“I’ve missed you so much this year. It’s been hell without you.”

“Oh hush, I’m sure you’ve been doing great.”

Veronica shook her head, but changed the subject, knowing she didn’t have much time. “Do you have anything you need to rush back to or do you have time to grab a Butterbeer after the game?”

Reggie shrugged. “I’m all yours today, so we can grab a Butterbeer, for sure.”

“Yay, I’m so excited to catch up with you!”

“Me too. And you can bring Charlie too if you’d like. I’m sure he’ll want to spend time with you after the game.”

“No, no, no. I see him everyday, but I never get to see you anymore. It’s fine. He’ll survive a few hours without me.” Veronica chuckled before turning at the sound of her name being called from behind her.

“Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but Madam Hooch is looking for you. I think we’re about to get started.”

“All good, thanks Simon. I’ll be right in.”

“Cool. It’s great to see you, Reggie.”

“You too, Simon!”

Once Simon disappeared into the tent, Veronica turned back to her friend. “Well… wish us luck, Reg. I think we’re gonna need it.”

“Don’t do that! You’ll be great! I’ll see you after, okay? Do you want me to come find you here or do you want to meet me at the Three Broomsticks?”

“No, let’s meet there. I’ll have to find Charlie and let him know.”

“So, I take it you and him still haven’t told each other how you feel, huh?”

“Oh Merlin, not this again. I’ve got to go!”

“Veronica! Why–”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you! I’m gone!”

Reggie shook his head and chuckled as he made his way into the commentary box with the professors. Those two could not be more oblivious.

***

Veronica watched as Walker Mathis raced against the Hufflepuff Seeker, each with an arm outstretched. This was it. One of them was about to end the game and win it for their team. The score had been neck and neck the whole game, so this would be the deciding factor.

As Veronica watched him, she thought about how much he had grown into the position over the years. It felt like it was yesterday when he had been the reserve Seeker and replaced Maribelle for a few games when her grades needed to be improved in Veronica’s fourth year. Back then he had been such a shy kid, but over the years, he had gained so much confidence. He had rocked the tryout and had earned the permanent Seeker position. But even the growth and improvement she had seen in him from the tryouts at the start of the season were impressive. She was so proud of him.

“Oof!” Veronica lost all the breath in her lungs as she felt something hard hit her back like a ton of bricks. Turning, she saw one of the Hufflepuff Beaters watching her with fear in their eyes and realized it had been a Bludger. That’s what I get for letting my thoughts distract me. Both Seekers had lost the Snitch, and the game had continued around her without her even noticing.

“Shit, Captain, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were distracted… I should have stopped it from hitting you.”

“No, no. My fault, Mavis. You’re doing great. Keep sending Bludgers my way, we need to get their Seeker out of here.”

***

“Yes! That’s how you do it, Walker! Hell yeah!”

Simon and Veronica lifted the small boy onto one of their shoulders each and cheered as they bounced him up and down, while the whole team jumped around them as they celebrated their first victory of the season.

Putting him down, Veronica put her arm around his shoulders and looked at her team. “You all did bloody brilliant today. Seriously, great job everyone. Now go and celebrate. And for those of you old enough, one round of Butterbeer is on me at the Three Broomsticks. Mavis, there’s always next year, love. This year, you can grab a pumpkin juice from the Great Hall.” Veronica chuckled as she walked them all to the changing rooms, and once they had all changed out of their Quidditch robes, she shooed them out. “And remember, there’s no practice tomorrow! You get a day off. See you all on Tuesday!”

As her team made their way down the path towards the school, Veronica felt arms wrap around her from behind. The smell of vanilla and the outdoors filled her senses, and she felt instantly at home. Turning in his arms, she smiled up at Charlie. “Hi.”

“Hi. Congratulations on your win, that was a great game.”

“You think so? I feel like we could have done better.”

“Ronnie, you’re the Captain. Of course, you’re going to think that. But believe me, it was great.”

Veronica sighed in relief as she lay her cheek on his chest and hugged him tight. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

“Of course, love. You wanna grab a Butterbeer to celebrate?”

Veronica cringed as she pulled away from him slightly. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but Reggie came to watch the game, and I–”

“Oh, gotcha. For sure, it’s all good. I’ll see you later then.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“It’s fine, Ronnie. Honestly, I know how much you miss him, so this’ll be good for you. Besides, I have to finish that essay for Snape anyway.”

Veronica’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “That essay that he assigned to us last week?” Charlie nodded. “The one that’s due tomorrow?” He nodded again. “The one you told me you finished already!?!”

Charlie chuckled as he scratched his head awkwardly. “Yes! Okay? I know, but I just can’t wrap my head around Golpalott’s Third Law. It isn’t clicking for me.”

“Charlie! He isn’t asking you to brew an antidote for a mixed poison. He’s just asking you to write a bloody essay about the Law. It’s not that hard.”

“For you! It’s hard for me!”

“Then forget it. I’ll tell Reggie I can’t come. I’ll stay and help you.”

Charlie shook his head adamantly and began pushing her towards the path to Hogsmeade. “Absolutely not. You go and have fun. I’m going to the library to bury my nose in some books. Besides, you’ve already tried explaining it, so maybe reading about it will help. If you finish early, I’ll be there, so you can come find me. If not, we’ll meet at dinner.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you later!”

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pricklypear1997 · 1 year

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This is gonna sound so cringe, but I think the reason why for 7 years of reading ASOIAF, I was in denial about the subtle hint of Arya and Gendry’s budding romance is because I relate so much to Arya and I’ve always been fighting against the thought of love, intimacy and marriage because I too have felt like it’s been pushed on me since I was a child… seriously. I know we live in the 21st century, but people love forcing heterosexual romance (and romance in general, even) down their children’s throats. It’s more common than people admit, it’s just more subtle these days. As a young woman, I’ve always been told and expected to grow up one day and fall in love (with a man specifically) and have children later in life. I have seen and experienced a lot of things no child should and I have detachment issues as well as very poor self esteem. Like Arya, I feel ugly and have ptsd as well as severe depression. The idea of trusting another person, being intimate and in love with them is terrifying for me. I read Arya’s chapters and I see a traumatized girl who’s lost her family, has seen cruelty face to face, has had to kill in self defense and has been told her whole life that her freedom, feelings and body are not worthy of respect and protection. She’s also at war with herself and her identity (something I too very much struggle with in result by being adopted by a narcissistic emotionally abusive parent of a different background than me), so how can someone so unbalanced, scared and unhealthy like herself be ready to fall in love? It has to come out, in her own time eventually. It’s a hard lesson I’ve had to learn, but all humans long for companionship and family. We need it. It’s wired in our brains to find it, no matter how much we protest. The problem is when others constantly force it and create expectations that make us feel constricted and trapped. Arya needs to feel free, (I need to feel free). Gendry makes Arya feel free. He accepts her for who she is, wholly. He appreciates all her unique qualities and difficult personality to an insane degree, and that right there is true love. She also seems feel the same way for him, but unlike him, is so unaware of it… I want this romance to grow slowly. Let it simmer for a while. Don’t make them get together immediately. Arya still has a lot of healing to do. To an extent, I wish for something like this to happen to me in the future. Reading the series makes me hopeful. Reading about a character I deeply relate to on another level does help me understand myself better, and I appreciate George R R Martin for writing such an awesome dynamic character like Arya… I couldn’t thank him enough. All the characters he writes are very interesting, even the ones I despise and I feel we can all and should self reflect and learn from a Song of Ice and Fire.

A reminder; Read the books, forget the show.

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loki-lover84 · 2 years

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Chapter 1 Episode 3 Part I

A/n: I figured it’d be nicer/ easier to read if I split up the episodes if you disagree let me know, I will try to update everyday depending on how much progress I make but yeah. I apologise it will be a little slow but I did skip the first 2 episodes to try to get straight to the Soldier Boy x Reader aspect I hope ya’ll enjoy.

“Butcher’s got it.” Maeve says striding into her apartment in Vought in her ‘disguise’.

To me she looks like a journalist, well if it works for the comic book hero’s then why can’t it work for her. Clearly it does to some extent, barely anyone bothers her I don’t see how though, her face is fully exposed. Whom I to judge though, I still look like I’m in my late twenties despite nearly being seventy and not a single person recognises me, that could be due to Vought’s cover up though.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?” Maeve asks sitting next to me on her sofa.

“Yeah…sorry. Is there anything else I can do to help?” I ask fully aware that Maeve’s not afraid to ask me for help.

“About that, I was wondering if you’d be able to keep an eye on Butcher. Make sure he doesn’t fuck this lead up too?” She asks standing up to go and get changed into her Queen Maeve attire behind the divider.

“Yeah, no problem.” I can’t help the grin on my face, I’ve never been so close to getting my Ben back.

“I understand it’s a lot to ask and knowing Butcher and his crew it’s probably going to be unnecessarily reckless and dangerous and-” Maeve continues seemingly not hearing my response.

“I said yes, Maeve. I can handle myself so don’t worry about it.” I laugh standing up organising and rescheduling Maeve’s rota for the day.

She emerges from her divider smiling at me before grabbing her sword as I hand her the tablet with schedule and she tells me where I can find Butcher and his crew.

Maeve gives me a hug wishing me luck before I leave her apartment letting her focus on her pre-training ‘workout’. I collide straight into someone, I look at the petite blonde realising who it is.

“Sorry Starlight didn’t see you there.” She smiles at me waving a dismissive hand.

“It’s alright. Is Maeve in there?”

“Yeah, she’s keeping up her training.” I step away from the door and make my way to the lift.

Unfortunately the lift stops one floor down and Homelander strides in standing up straight with his hands clasped behind his back, his usual stern/ pissed off expression on his face. His dull blue eyes land on me looking most unimpressed.

“Y/n, you’re leaving early aren’t you?” He says eyeing my suspiciously.

“Today’s easy, Maeve only has five things on her schedule today and three of them require her to stay in this building. We mutually decided she can take care of herself she is a big strong girl after all. She has to be, working in ‘The Seven’ with you.”

“You forget your place!” He sneers towering over me in efforts to make me cower.

“I know my place. Do you?” I say exiting the elevator before then leaving the lobby and heading to the address Maeve gave me.

Well here I am, the Flatiron Building. I still vaguely remember when it was the Fuller Building. Looking up I can’t help but think this is the most normal looking building these guys have probably ever had as a hideout well it beats an eerie basement at least.

“Ugh. Of course they’re on the top floor with an out of order lift. Oh well…I could use the cardio.” I groan after walking up the first two flights of stairs.

Okay I’m here. You’ve got this introduce myself as…FUCK I’m not sure what’ll sound good. Hi I’m Maeve’s PA and have a lot of knowledge on Soldier Boy, a lot of knowledge surrounding Soldier Boy’s death? I should have spent my time more wisely.

“Who are you?” I turn around and see Hughie stood behind me looking slightly bewildered.

“Hi Hughie.” I say watching as he instantly recognises me.

“Sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t expecting- why are you here?”

“Maeve thought I could help you guys out with finding the weapon that killed Soldier Boy.” That sounded okay right? Yeah that’ll do.

“Oh, as far as I’m concerned feel free to join us but, good luck convincing Butcher.” He says holding the door open for me.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Butcher seethes his eyes landing on me before I’ve even stepped in the room.

“I’m here to help.” I say walking in as Hughie follows behind.

“Why the fuck do you think you’ll be useful, you’re just another supes bitch.” Oh he’s really trying isn’t he, well I take that back this is him relatively calm.

“You certainly live up to your reputation.” I say walking straight up to him not breaking eye contact. “Without me, you wouldn’t have got your Soldier Boy lead.”

“Bullshit!”

“Who do you think suggested it to Maeve? Me. Who got the file? Me. Who got your- well you know what I got you.” I argue lowering my voice for the last bit.

Butcher’s hazel eyes burn my e/c ones, as I hold his glare right back refusing to back down to the likes of him. Eventually he sighs throwing his hands up and pacing away.

“Fine. The moment you step one fucking toe out of line though, you’re finished!”

“Good luck with that.” I sass back sitting myself on a nearby desk.

I see Hughie and MM exchange glances fighting the urge to chuckle. I notice their eyes widening for a moment before MM announces.

“The prodigal son returns!” Arms outstretched as he gives Hughie a bro hug.

“What the fuck? Hey man. W-wa-wait a minute are you back?” They both laugh as they pull apart.

Clearly I’ve missed something if they’re having a reunion.

“We’ll see.”

“Don’t get me wrong I’m happy but…are you sure?” Hughie asks.

Yep I’ve definitely intruded during a reunion.

“The fuck happened here kid, you jacking off with razors again?”MM asks as I watch him take Hughie’s bandaged up hand a little shocked that I didn’t notice it earlier.

“I mean you should see the other guy, the other guy’s my penis.” MM chuckles and I can’t resist the urge to either.

“I missed you kid.” He says patting Hughie’s shoulder.

“I missed you too.”

I’m definitely sensing a bromance alert. I smile at them whilst dangling my legs. I definitely look like a fucking child. The air grows solemn for a moment as Butcher approaches Hughie.

“Look I know what you’re gonna say and I just-”

“No, no mate. I’m just chuffed to have the boys under the same roof. Alright?” Butcher interrupts.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean there he was right in his fancy pants, lording it over us like the viceroy of Vought square, eh? And that whole time he weren’t nothing but a Supe’s bootlick, eh? ” Butcher finishes.

And I thought there was drama at Vought, at least I only just got here for the aftermath.

“Yeah.” Hughie sighs.

“That my son is a lifetime achievement at the Cunt of the Year Awards, isn’t it?” Well at least the reality lives up to the expectation.

“Yeah, it is. It is a lifetime achievement.” Hughie agrees making Butcher give a deep chuckle.

“Are you done?” I ask rolling my eyes, I don’t know Hughie that well but I know how frustrating it can be to be reminded of your mistakes.

“I am just getting started, believe you me. If I were you god forbid, I’d stay fucking quiet around here.” I throw my hand up in mock surrender as Butcher sips his coffee.

“Great, listen we need to get Ryan somewhere safe. Vicky knows where he is, because we fucking told her, which means Stan Edgar knows too.”

“So ya’ll know she’s the head popper?” I can’t help but ask, fully aware that only a maximum of five people (until now) knew she was even a supe.

“Yeah. I only know because I witnessed her do it one night, did a bit of research at the orphanage too.” Hughie replies.

Clearly it’s easy to find out about anyone now, I just hope my records are as deep as Vought claimed they buried them.

“Yeah one step ahead, Colonel’s already done a runner with the boy.” Butcher says getting back on track. “They’re well out of sight. In fact, we’re gonna pay them a little visit.” Butcher says eyeing me suspiciously, as if to say he doesn’t want me to join them.

“We are?” MM asks.

“So you’ve spoken to Crimson Cuntess and Gunpowder, I take it?” I earn a grunt from Butcher confirming my question and a small smirk approving my nickname for CC just as Frenchie’s phone buzzes.

“Uh, Monsieur Charcutier, uh, I cannot go. I have a matter of great importance.” Frenchie says his eyes barely leaving his phone screen as he backs out of the make shift circle that formed without my notice.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve forgot to run it by your bleeding secretary.” Butcher mocks eyes growing hard.

“It’s an emergency.” Frenchie insists.

“I-I’ll go instead.” Hughie chimes trying to reach a middle ground.

“Nah, you skive off today, and that congresswoman might split your pretty little buns.” Butcher observes also sitting on a desk.

“Yeah, thought of that.” Hughie says as he walks over to Kimiko. “Uh, Kimiko. Kimiko? Hi.” She removes her headphones and looks up at him. “Uh, can you please…uh, break my arm?”

I nearly laugh at his request but seeing how much he’s fidgeting and the look in his nervous blue eyes I can tell he’s sincere.

“Vicky will smell it if I fake being sick, so it’s got to be real, and it’s got to last for days.” Hughie adds I think more trying to convince himself than anyone else.

“Fucking hell, Hughie.” Butcher laughs his eyes widening in genuine amusement.

“At least take something for the pain. I got opium.” Frenchie says passing Hughie the drugs.

“Government employees can’t fail a piss test.” Hughie insists passing them back, “Let’s just get this over with, okay? Just do it pretty fast.”

“I doubt they’ll make you do a piss test for a broken arm.” I say finally chiming in again, only to be ignored.

Kimiko grabs his arm ready to do it before MM intervenes.

“H-Hold, hold, hold up. Have a seat please, only been here three minutes and it’s already The Bold and the Batshit.” MM declares grabbing a black bin liner and placing it on Hughie’s lap. “All right, go ahead.” He says swapping places with Kimiko.

Kimiko grabs the top of Hughie’s arm prepared to make the break once more until MM speaks again.

“Right here.” He says gesturing lower down Hughie’s arm, “Clean break. No permanent damge.”

Hughie exhales looking straight ahead.

“Alright, one, two…” There’s aloud crack signifying the bones break as Hughie yells out in pain. “What the shit?” He screams not really believing he, nor Kimiko, actually did it without it being stopped.

“Here.” I say taking off my flannel shirt to make a make shift sling until we could get him a proper one. “That should help for now.”

“Thanks Y/n.” Hughie says after calming down.

Frenchie dismisses himself and Butcher reluctantly brings me with him and the rest of his crew to go see Mallory.

By the time I get out of the cramped backseat Butcher’s already heading inside with Mallory and a boy I can only assume is Ryan. I join the others for a momentonly catching the end of their mini chat.

“So why did you come back?” Hughie asks MM.

“Soldier Boy killed my family.” He says walking ahead of us before we follow in suit.

I mean he’s probably right. My Ben did become reckless occasionally when he fought but, we all did…that’s why we’ve always had a crisis team and cover up crew. I know it’s not fair but it’s not like it’s done on purpose at least 85% of the time anyway. Unfortunately we all make mistakes, I’ve yet to meet another supe with a body count higher than mine, I did do mine deliberately though.

I follow the present crew through to the bare living room as Kimiko and Ryan go to sit outside. As I overhear Butcher break the news to Mallory about Victoria and watch as she begins pacing and ranting.

“Neuman’s head of the bureau because I said so. I tried to save her from the attack on Congress that she fucking caused.” She complains in disbelief.

“Well, at least you didn’t spend the last year getting her oat milk lattes and every piece of intel she asked for.” Hughie says pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“I would very much like to know the plan to eliminate her.” She says before glancing at me suspiciously I can tell she’s racking her brain to place me but we only met once a long time ago for like two minutes hopefully she won’t remember me for my fame either. As far as the world is aware Amphitrite is dead, mind you they said the same about Soldier Boy.

“Well, that depends on what you can tell us about your little holiday down in Nicaragua.”

“I’ve never been to Nicaragua.”

“Really? ‘Cause a little birdie told me that you were Payback’s case officer down there, on a classified job that Soldier Boy never come back from.” Butcher states staring Mallory down as she scoffs.

“Colonel?” MM asks.

“Whatever it is that William thinks he may have heard, he is mistaken.”

“Is he?” I counter and she just glares at me before Butcher chimes in again.

“You know that safe you got in your home office? The one behind the picture of Bush number one? Well, I borrowed the ledger from it, the one with all your assets around the world.” Mallory turns her focus back on Butcher I can see the worry clearly painted on her face. “How long do you think them and their families will last when I put every one of their fucking names on Facebook?” I won’t lie, Butcher would make a fantastic super villain he’s not afraid to kill hundreds to get what he wants.

“You’d sign a death warrant on dozens of people who have nothing to do with this?” Mallory asks sceptically.

“I’m embarrassed for the both of us that you’re asking.” He confirms.

“Nicaragua’s ancient history. Not to mentioned I could be killed just for telling you.”

I’ll kill you like I killed everyone else that wouldn’t tell me. I’ve waited far too long to get to the missing pieces of my puzzle, you better fucking speak right now. I fight the urge to say it aloud but I can’t resist the allure of imagining how I’d get the information out of her if she hold her tongue.

“And all your agents will get killed if you don’t.” Butcher says plainly, clearly neither of them are aware that some of them are already dead. “Blimey. What a pickle.” He adds taking a seat in front of her.

There’s a pregnant pause as tension builds before Mallory finally speaks.

“It was part of operation Charly.”

“Operation Charly?” Hughie asks.

“It was part of Reagan’s pet project off the books.” I answer as Mallory solemnly nods at me.

“Help the Contra rebels fight the Russian-backed Sandinistas, but we needed a way to pay for it. Some of the cash came from selling arms to Iran, Oliver North’s epic fuckup. But the rest. If there’s one thing that the Contras had plenty of, it was cocaine. I was in charge of trafficking the coke to the U.S. and then using the profits to buy more weapons. In the fight against the Reds, whatever it took.” She declares.

“That’s some self-justifying bullshit. Were you part of that other thing too?” MM sneers.

“What other thing?” Hughie asks.

“She knows.” MM says. “Tell him.”

Mallory stays silent looking down at the splinter filled wooden floor boards below our feet.

“The unwritten policy, to sell cocaine strictly to minority neighbourhoods.” I answer for her wanting to get to the part about Soldier Boy and Payback.

“Late in ’84 we were gearing up for a major defensive so the higher-ups, in their infinite wisdom, decided it was the perfect time to throw a wrench in the works.”

Mallory then goes on to say how she heard cheering coming from outside the tents and went to investigate when she found her men gathering around the truly obnoxious group Payback, I mean she had a fair point but of course they were up their own arses all the praise and media they got for essentially showing up and looking pretty. None of them ever really did a genuine heroic act in their lives unless they new money and fame would be their reward. She further explained how she was practically dealing with spoilt toddlers, before and after Stanley Edgar showed up treating her men like a catering crew as if they were on holiday at a resort. She briefly mentioned how Soldier Boy attempted to flirt with her before shutting him down saying how any woman that’s been with him was only with him because they were scared of him. I can’t help but clench my fists in anger, I’m aware he was genuinely insecure about that, he thought that was the only reason I stayed with him despite how many times I’d insist it was bullshit and how many times I showed him I love him I knew that feeling would never completely go away. To think that may have been one of his final thoughts before either his death or disappearance (the latter more realistic) pains me.

“Hold that thought.” I hear Butcher’s stomach gurgle as he leaves inevitably to throw up as one of the side effects of the temp V I stole for him.

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